


Warm and Terrified

by somedayoneday



Series: Warm & Terrified 'verse [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: (its not very graphic or prolonged but its there), (kinda?), Aftercare, Alpha!Brian, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Arguing, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Awkward First Times, Beta!Freddie, Beta!Roger, Blood, Brian is the most caring fucking boyfriend, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Discrimination, Double Penetration, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fiddling with the real timeline to fit Plot, First Kiss, First Time, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Gift Giving, Happy Ending, Healthy Relationships, Heart-to-Heart, Heats, Hepatitis, Interviews, M/M, Massage, Misunderstandings, Mixed POV, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Omega!John, Polyamory, Quiet Sex, Rimming, Scenting, Self-Control, Shower Sex, Sickness, Skeevy Record Labels & Skeevy Executives, Slow Burn, Switching, Trope Subversion, Voyeurism, post-coital dysphoria, they have a lot of conversations about sex lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-10-02 11:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 78,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17263553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somedayoneday/pseuds/somedayoneday
Summary: Seeking bassist and drummer for rock & roll band. Auditions in Sherfield Building, Lecture Theatre 03, 19th July 6:30PM. All genders welcome.Omegaverse AU. Roger would do just about anything to make John happy, but he's conscious of their precarious position as a beta/omega couple in a world where omega's rights are almost entirely dependent on having an alpha mate. Joining a band with an alpha guitarist is just asking for trouble, even if Brian is rather attractive...[Established Roger/John, and eventual Roger/John/Brian. Completed.]





	1. The Audition

**Author's Note:**

> In this world, the majority of the population (about 60%) is made up of betas, who are largely just 'normal humans' as we know them. The rest are alphas (30%) and omegas (10%) - with alphas tending to occupy most powerful roles in society, and omegas expected to be purely domestic, and not afforded many rights unless given them by their alpha mate.
> 
> This chapter is T-rated, later chapters will veer into more explicit territory though. It's rather short, as it's an introduction, future chapters will be longer.

“I don’t like this,” Roger muttered, pacing in front of the lecture theatre door. The poster taped up on the door matched the one clutched in John’s hand – ‘ _Seeking bassist and drummer for rock & roll band. Auditions in Sherfield Building, Lecture Theatre 03, 19th July 6:30 PM. All genders welcome.’ _Beneath the text was a stylised logo featuring the band’s name – Queen.

“It can’t hurt to try,” John reasoned, looking far less agitated than Roger, though the jittery tapping of his foot indicated he was still rather nervous, “They seem like good people. Most bands wouldn’t even entertain the idea of an omega joining.”

“And what if they just added that line to lure omegas in, hm?” Roger shot back.

“Then I have you here to look out for me, don’t I?” John replied, as if he’d had the response planned before Roger even asked the question. He stepped over to the blond, stilling him with a hand at his waist and waiting for Roger to meet his gaze before continuing, “I wouldn’t do this if I hadn’t thought through the risks. But I want something to _do,_ Rog. I saw an ad in the paper the other day for an omega etiquette course, and I was half-tempted to go along just so I wouldn’t be so ruddy bored all day.”

Roger sighed. He did feel bad about that – about going to university when John wasn’t allowed to pursue further study, about going to lectures when John was stuck at home, nervous to venture out alone for much more than grocery shopping, lest he attract the wrong sort of attention just by virtue of being technically unmated.

“If there’s even one little red flag, I’ll give up on the idea entirely, but please let’s just give it a go,” John murmured, nuzzling close enough for Roger to scent him. Roger’s sense of smell couldn’t be compared to an alpha’s – evolution had decided he didn’t need that level of sensitivity – but he was still very fond of John’s scent. Homely and warm, like clean linen with a hint of musk.

He thought of John sitting alone in their little bedsit, bored out of his mind, all that potential wasting away. It was society’s fault, really, but Roger couldn’t help but blame himself a little. If he weren’t in the picture, John would probably be mated to an alpha by now: an alpha who could sign the paperwork needed to allow John to study for a bachelor’s degree, or take up an apprenticeship, or get a proper job. Of course, most alphas wouldn’t dream of signing those papers, but still…

“Fine,” Roger conceded, “But I’m holding you to that. One red flag, and we walk.”

With almost perfect timing, the door to the lecture theatre opened, and an alpha carrying a rather shiny and new looking bass guitar exited. Behind him, hovering in the doorway, stood another alpha, taller, with a mess of brown curls around his head. Roger immediately felt his hackles rise as this unfamiliar alpha’s gaze flicked over John, then across to Roger himself.

“So, who’s next?” the alpha asked, looking between them expectantly.

“Both of us,” Roger replied quickly, reaching out to grasp John’s hand and giving it a squeeze, “We’re a package deal; I’m on drums, he’s on bass.” If Roger wasn’t so wary, he might have given the alpha credit for not so much as raising an eyebrow at the situation – after all, their relationship was more than a little taboo.

“Right. Well, come on in then. I’m Brian, by the way, I play guitar. Our lead singer Freddie’s inside.” With that, Roger and John were ushered in.

Two hours later, with no red flags in sight, the two of them were being inducted over drinks as the newest members of Queen. John looked so radiantly happy to be joining this strange band - with the beta singer who looked like he’d dressed for the carnival, and the alpha guitarist who hadn’t stepped a foot out of line - that Roger could almost accept that it might not be such an awful idea.

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For anybody who came here wondering about my other fic - Don't Lose Your Head - I feel like most of the conflict in the plot has been resolved, so I'm planning on writing a bit of an epilogue and then potentially adding future one-shot chapters if any ideas come to mind. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are very much appreciated! I'd love to know what people think of the concept, and am happy to answer any questions about the 'verse. 
> 
> (p.s. I know I'm speaking to a bunch of Queen fans here so you've probably heard it, but if by some strange chance you haven't listened to the song She Makes Me - which inspired the title of this fic - please please do, it's wonderful).


	2. How It Began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger thinks back to how he and John first went from friends to something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M
> 
> See tags (or end-note) for CW for this chapter. It's nothing graphic or particularly detailed, but could be upsetting.

If asked now, Roger would have said he’d been in love with John for as long as he’d known him; it was just realising those feelings that had taken some time.

They’d first met at the tender age of eleven – the years when concerns about dynamics and mating were on the horizon, but still seemed a lifetime away. Of course, Roger had known John was an omega, but it hadn’t mattered much. They’d been drawn together by a love of music, and that was most of what they talked about, to begin with.

It was Roger’s second boyfriend – Matthew Phelps, an alpha – who would end up provoking a change in that status quo.

By this point, Roger was 17, and while he wasn’t so blind to dynamics as he had been six years ago – it was hard to miss the fact that John was the only omega in their year group who’d chosen to stay in school for A-levels – he didn’t concern himself with them too much. John was his friend, who could play a mean riff on his Eko 995 and who fixed Roger’s radio when it broke. So what if he took a week off school every three months like clockwork, ? It didn’t change things, as far as Roger was concerned, and he didn’t see a point in learning more about the dynamics of alphas and omegas than was strictly necessary.

What he _did_ know was that alphas were fun to date. See, at their age, every alpha was still convinced that they would overcome statistical improbability and end of with an omega mate, and so they tended to view any relationships before that as temporary. That suited Roger just fine – he wasn’t looking for anything serious, just somebody to pass the time with and jump into bed with when he was in the mood.

Having Matthew around was especially nice when John was having one of his ‘sick’ weeks. School could get painfully boring without John, and while Matthew really didn’t compare in terms of quality of conversation, he wasn’t terrible company.

The particular day Roger could pinpoint as the start of it all was a Wednesday, John having just returned to school from one of his absences, leaning up against his locker as Roger regaled him with tales of all he’d missed while he was away.

“Oh, and Matt said there’s a physics test coming up, on Thursday,” Roger added as an afterthought to the barrage of gossip and vaguely interesting anecdotes he’d managed to cram into one five-minute monologue.

“Thursday?” John asked, paling a little when Roger nodded, “That’s tomorrow, Rog. And I’ve got everything else to catch up on too.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. He made you a copy of his revision notes,” Roger replied, going to fish them out of his bag. He’d honestly been a little surprised at the thoughtfulness –Roger wasn’t exactly dating the alpha for his great personality; he tended to be a little boorish, in fact.

“Matthew did?” John asked, and rather than the surprised expression Roger had expected, John looked inexplicably perturbed as he took the stapled sheets of paper from Roger. “He- he really didn’t have to go through the trouble,” John muttered. He wasn’t literally holding the notes at arm’s length, but he might as well have been for how displeased he seemed to be.

It was strange, but John was always in a funny mood right after coming back from an absence, and Roger didn’t want to overthink why that might be, so he dropped it.

“Come on, you can thank him in person when we get to chemistry,” Roger said, watching John hastily shove the notes right to the back of his locker before joining Roger in heading to class.

John seemed back to normal during chemistry, studiously taking notes and then laughing quietly at Roger’s jokes when the teacher’s back was turned, which sent a strange pang of emotion through Roger’s chest that he didn’t dare label. John barely spoke to Matthew, but that wasn’t unusual – the omega was rather quiet around people he didn’t know too well, which was pretty much everyone except Roger, his immediate family, and one or two teachers.

It was at lunch that the strange behaviour cropped up again.

When Roger showed up, John and Matthew were already sat at a table. Neither of them seemed to be touching their food, preoccupied with conversation. Well, actually, Matthew was preoccupied with talking to John – it seemed – and John was just staring blankly at a small paper package sat on the table between them. Roger caught a snippet of what Matthew was saying as he approached.

“-just to help you get your energy back up, after being _ill._ You can thank me later.”

Roger was close enough now to see the package. It looked like something you’d pick up at a pharmacy, and Roger could just about make out the words ‘Omega’ and ‘Supplement’ printed on it before John seemed to notice him, and snatched the little box off the table, quickly pocketing it.

“Hello, Roger,” John said, strangely seeming to direct the words more at Matthew than at the person he was actually greeting. Roger didn’t have a chance to ask what the hell was happening though, because as soon as Matthew noticed him, the alpha’s attention shifted entirely onto Roger, asking about his day and not giving him a second really to think about what he’d just seen.

Even though they stayed there for the full lunch hour, John barely touched his food, and shrugged it off when Roger asked if he was feeling okay.

If he was honest with himself, which he rarely was at that point in his life, Roger would have had to admit that the reason he didn’t push it was because he didn’t _want_ to know. There was a strange fear lurking in his gut that if he knew too much about John’s heats, or about alphas and omegas in general, he might start to see John differently, and he desperately didn’t want that to happen.

So, Roger paid no mind to the strange behaviour, and the next day, John seemed back to normal. The next incident didn’t come until the following Wednesday, when the morning once again found John and Roger stood at their lockers in the bustling corridor.

“Before I forget, Matt got you something,” Roger said, rifling around in his bag to grab the box Matt had handed him the previous evening, “He said something about your pen exploding in physics yesterday?”

“Well, there was a bit of an issue with the cartridge, but I just swapped to a different pen. It wasn’t a big deal,” John replied, his voice quieter now than it had been just a few moments ago.

“Oh. Well, he had this lying around at home apparently, so he said I should give it to you,” Roger continued. If he took a second to think about the story, it was a bit suspicious that Matthew would have a fountain pen still in the box just lying around to give away, but Roger had a biology test that morning and it was taking up most of his focus. Finally, he unearthed the box, holding it over to John.

John, who looked like Roger had just passed him a loaded gun and proposed he shoot himself with it.

“Tell him I don’t want it.” The words were sharp, and gave Roger pause.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit rude? It’s a free fountain pen, Deacy, come on, just take it,” Roger replied, laughing a little in an attempt to defuse the sudden awkwardness of the situation, which didn’t work at all.

“No, really. I’ll just buy myself a new pen tonight. I don’t want it. I-“

John was interrupted by the bell, and before Roger could press him further, he had turned tail and disappeared down the corridor, leaving Roger stumped. Still, as requested, he returned the boxed pen to Matthew at break time, just shrugging when the alpha questioned why John hadn’t wanted it.

Lunchtime rolled around, and neither John nor Matthew showed up at the canteen. John’s absence was expected – he’d not done particularly well in the physics test, and was retaking it in the labs during his lunch hour – but Matthew’s absence was a mystery. After polishing off his lunch, Roger decided to go on a hunt for him, pretty confident that they had time for a quickie in one of the staff toilets if he found the alpha soon.

Expecting Matthew to be in the sports hall, or maybe the library, Roger was surprised to hear the alpha’s familiar voice as he took a shortcut through the science department. Sure, Matt was taking two science A-levels, but he didn’t seem to have any great love for the subject.

Then, as he approached the door to Lab 3 – which was just barely ajar – Roger heard another familiar voice, and things clicked into place. Matthew must have had to retake the physics test along with John – after all, they’d studied from the same notes, it would make sense for them to get similar scores.

The words he heard John saying didn’t exactly match up with this initial theory.

“You’re dating Roger.” John’s voice was shaking, and soft, and Roger felt a shudder of discomfort just hearing it.

“I was just paying you a compliment.” Matthew’s voice sounded as it usually did, except a little meaner. “God, you’re rude, aren’t you? You didn’t thank me for the gifts, and now you won’t thank me for the compliment. Is that why you’re not mated yet?”

There was a tense silence, and Roger was pressed up to the door by this point. His mind was screaming at him to do something, but some instinct – some baser part of him that he’d never paid any mind to before – was telling him not to intervene. So he ended up frozen, stuck between the two.

“Please just leave me alone.” That was John’s voice again, and he sounded like he was crying. That shocked Roger. John wasn’t like the omegas in movies and radio plays, who would publicly burst into tears at the slightest provocation and be inconsolable. John hated crying in public, and was eerily good at affecting a blank expression and holding back any emotion until he could get somewhere private to let out what he was feeling.

Another shock was the sound of chair legs scraping against vinyl floor, and that was enough to push Roger into action. He threw open the door, and felt his blood boil when he saw Matthew crowding a clearly terrified John up against one of the workbenches. John’s face was wet with tears, but Matthew didn’t seem to care one bit. The alpha’s hands were drifting down to John’s belt, and Roger saw red.  

“Get the fuck off of him,” he snapped, and that finally caught Matthew’s attention. He didn’t seem overly concerned, though, to Roger’s fury.

“Calm down, Rog, we didn’t say we were exclusive.”

“You-“ Roger paused, trying to process what the alpha had said, even as the adrenaline pumping through him blurred his thoughts into an angry haze, “You think _that’s_ what I’m pissed about? That you’re trying to _cheat_ on me? I said get away from John, or I’ll make you.”

In that moment, it didn’t matter to Roger that the alpha was nearly half a foot taller and four stone heavier than him. All that mattered was John, the person he cared about more than anyone else in the world.

That held true even when Matthew threw a punch that had Roger stumbling back. His nose felt strangely warm, and he could taste iron through the adrenaline, but he didn’t let that distract him, striding forward to deliver a punch of his own and snarling in frustration when the alpha barely seemed to feel it.

It only took a few more blows back and forth for Roger to realise he wasn’t going to win this fight. Losing wasn’t an option, though. If he didn’t win, John would-

Roger’s gaze was caught by something glinting, stood on the workbench behind him. A carafe used to store distilled water for experiments, made of tempered glass, sturdy and probably quite painful if applied with force to the human skull.

Roger didn’t even hesitate. Water splashed over him as he grabbed the carafe by the neck and swung it at Matthew’s head, catching him in the temple. The alpha dropped like a log, still conscious – if the way he twitched when Roger kicked him in the ribs was any indication – but not an immediate threat for the time being.

“Jesus,” Roger panted, wiping his face and taking a second to be alarmed at just how much blood came off on his hand, before he made his way over to John. The omega was stood exactly where Matthew had left him, and barely moved as Roger approached, breath coming out in quick, sharp pants. “Come on, John, let’s get out of here,” Roger said, offering out his non-bloodied hand. John stayed frozen.

“Can’t,” he huffed out after a second, “Just- just give me a minute.”

Later, John would explain to him that being frozen like that wasn’t so strange, for an omega. It was an instinctive response to sensing a physical threat, something John evidently disliked, judging by the way he described it.

In fact, John explained a lot of things to him that day. After getting his face stitched up and his nose set back in place, Roger had gone straight to see John – who had also been sent home from school early – because it was obvious to him now that there must have been warning signs. After all, John had clearly known something was suspect about Matthew, but Roger had been oblivious, and he was willing to bet that stemmed from his general ignorance when it came to the quirks of alphas and omegas.

So, at Roger’s request, John had sat down with him, and talked Roger through everything he’d wilfully ignored up to that point. How receiving little gifts and tokens from an alpha was a rather serious sign of interest. How John could identify an unmated alpha from across the room just by their scent, and how an alpha could do the same to him. How heats worked – a topic which John stuttered through a skimmed over the details of – and how no doctor would prescribe John pills to limit his heats until he was at least twenty-five. John was quite articulate, but even for him, catching Roger up on the very basics took a little over ninety minutes.

Afterwards, Roger went quiet, unsure what to say as he sat cross-legged on John’s bed. More than anything, he wanted to cry at the thought of all that his best friend had put up with for the past few years, and never been able to confide to anybody about, because Roger hadn’t wanted to talk about ‘dynamics stuff’.

“You must think I’m the shittest friend in the world,” Roger finally settled for, voice cracking with emotion, “All this- this _shit_ and I had no idea.”

“It’s complicated, Rog, nobody expects you to get it all,” John replied softly, reaching over and stroking Roger’s non-bruised cheek, “I think you’re a great friend. You stood up for me, even when it got you hurt.”

There was another pause, their gazes meeting as John’s hand lingered on Roger’s cheek. And while Roger knew now was probably the worst possible moment to push his luck, he also wanted desperately to hold John.

“I know you already explained a lot,” Roger began, clearing his throat quickly, “But… You know how alphas date betas sometimes?” He didn’t give the obvious example, not wanting to even say Matthew’s name in the sanctity of John’s bedroom.

“Yes,” John replied.

“Does that ever happen with betas and omegas?”

The question hung in the air for a long moment, before John leaned forward, his gentle fingers still caressing Roger’s cheek, and pressed their lips together tentatively.

And that was how it began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Attempted non-con. It doesn't get very far or go into much detail, but if you want to skip it, stop at "Then, as he approached the door to Lab 3..." and continue at "It only took a few more blows..."
> 
> Thank you for reading! As always, comments and kudos are really, really appreciated! This chapter was a bit of a one-off, but I wanted to give some context to Roger and John's relationship before continuing with the main plot.


	3. Making Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A more detailed look at Queen's first night together, celebrating the addition of their two newest members.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T

“So, Deacy,” Freddie began, scooting his chair closer to John’s, “You’ve been awfully quiet. Why don’t you tell us a bit more about yourself?”

The four of them were out drinking to celebrate what Freddie called ‘two new queens joining the party’, crowded around one particularly sticky table at a pub Roger had never been to before. It was cheap, at least, by London standards.

“Not much to say, really,” John said, sipping at his pint as he considered for a moment before continuing, “I went to school with Rog, got my A-levels in physics, maths, and chemistry, and then we moved in together when he started his degree.”

“So, what do you study?” Freddie asked, and Roger practically winced. Of course, most betas didn’t know the intricacies of every law concerning unmated omegas – Freddie included, apparently. Out of the corner of his eye, Roger saw Brian pursing his lips.

“I don’t,” John murmured, catching his lower lip between his teeth and worrying at it. Evidently, Freddie was too drunk to pick up on social cues, because he pressed on with the line of questioning.

“Do you work, then?”

“Drop it, Fred.” Brian’s voice came just as Roger was about to issue a similar warning, and John looked intensely grateful when the older man went on to change the subject, “You mentioned back in the audition that you’re good with sound equipment, did you learn that at school?”

“Oh, no. I just picked it up from tinkering,” John said, slowly starting to relax again, “When we were younger, Rog had this awful old radio, but he refused to spend money on a new one, so I kept fixing it up for him when it fell apart. I spent half my birthday money getting together the spare parts, I think it would’ve been cheaper to just buy a new one.”

“Bullshit, she wasn’t that bad off,” Roger shot back, laughing, “You’re exaggerating.”

“Of course, dear,” John replied evenly, then turned to Brian and gave a subtle shake of his head, making him chuckle. Really, Roger had never seen John warm up to an alpha so fast… But any doubts that gave him were immediately cast aside as John turned back to face him with an adoring look – one reserved exclusively for Roger.

The rest of the evening was a bit of a blur. Freddie temporarily abandoned their little group to catch up with some other friends, and while Roger was briefly engaged by a conversation Brian and John were having about guitar models, he quickly tuned out when the topic turned to something physics-related. It was the only science Roger had never had much of a knack for, and it certainly wasn’t something he enjoyed chatting about in his free time.

In the end, Roger and John were just announcing their plans to head off when Freddie finally returned, insisting that they stay for just one more round.

“D’you feel better about this all now?” John asked now that they were alone, Freddie and Brian having gone to get more drinks. The omega seemed more than a little tipsy, but Roger wasn’t much in the mood to complain about that when it meant John was pressed close to his side, using Roger to keep himself steady.

“They’ve got a pretty good energy,” Roger conceded, gaze falling to the table, where a non-descript black wallet sat, “Is that Brian’s?”

John reached out, flipping the wallet open and revealing a younger-looking Brian’s face staring back at them from his driving licence.

“Seems like it,” John replied, “You should take it to him.” Roger grabbed the wallet, and hesitated, until John gave him a little push. “Go on, Rog, I’ll be fine for two minutes.”

So, Roger made his way through the crowd, quickly spotting Brian and Freddie stood at the bar, though they were too engaged in conversation to notice Roger trying to catch their attention. He pushed closer.

“He can’t even get a job?” Freddie’s voice cut through the noise of the crowd, and Roger frowned a little. They were talking about John, that much was obvious, so he hung back, curious what would be said.

Brian was shaking his head, and Freddie scowled. “But that’s ridiculous!” he exclaimed, “Is he even allowed to be in the band, then?”

“Performing arts are a bit of a loophole, since the laws are so dated,” Brian was saying. He certainly seemed well-educated on the subject. Roger couldn’t decide if that was a good sign, or a bad one. “Look, it’s an unfortunate situation, but I’m sure it’s the last thing he wants brought up on a night out. It’s probably a sore spot, let’s not scare them off before we’ve even done a single gig together.”

Roger had heard enough. He stepped closer and waved the wallet in Brian’s face, smirking a little at how it made the alpha jump. “You forgot this,” he said, “And – er – just get a half-pint for John, he’s pretty far gone.”

With that, he made his way back to the table, greeted by a rather tactile John. When Brian and Freddie returned, drinks in hand, Freddie insisted on making a toast to their newly formed group – which ended up rather long, but entertaining nonetheless – and the conversation settled into planning a rehearsal schedule that suited all of them. Freddie skirted rather neatly around the fact that John didn’t really need to be asked about his availability as he was permanently free, and by the time Roger and John were grabbing their jackets and heading out, they’d sorted out a pretty tidy schedule. Knowing what bands tended to be like, Roger sincerely doubted it would be adhered to for more than a week, but he couldn’t complain, as he expected to be at least half at fault when it all fell apart.

As they walked home, John seemed happier than Roger had seen him in months, and Roger had to admit he was more than a little excited himself. It had been far too long since he’d played alongside anyone but John, and that couldn’t really compare to having a fully-formed band to play along with.

It would be great, if it worked out. Roger just still didn’t quite trust that it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! It's so nice to have a couple of regular commenters already, and of course, it's always good to see a new face (icon? whatever) in the comments section ;) Thanks to all who have left kudos, bookmarked and subscribed too!
> 
> Next chapter will finally earn a proper E-rating, I reckon!


	4. A Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and John have an early morning visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E (if you want to skip the smut, start reading at "After a few minutes...", though the whole chapter has explicit themes)

“Please, Rog, just a little-“

John cut himself off with a moan, his voice wrecked and pitched about an octave higher than usual. It would have made Roger smirk if he weren’t so preoccupied with dragging his tongue once more over John’s entrance, coaxing out another breathless moan and making John’s thighs tremble where they were hitched over Roger’s shoulders.

Roger was especially fond of this position. While John was usually eager to roll onto his hands and knees, Roger liked having him on his back. There was something more intimate about it, he thought, and John made the most beautiful sounds when he didn’t have a pillow to muffle them against.

Roger let his tongue press into John a little; he could feel every shudder and twitch of the omega’s body in this position. As Roger licked into him, relishing how John keened and ground his hips down frantically, he could tell that his lover was close to climaxing.

After a few more swipes of his tongue, Roger’s jaw was protesting, so he shifted a little to press three fingers into John – not a particularly difficult feat, given how slick and open the omega was after twenty minutes of teasing. The response was immediate. John gasped, rolling his hips down against the intrusion, and after a minute or so where Roger really didn’t have to do much more than crook his fingers and press a few wet kisses to John’s thigh, John was coming, half-sobbing Roger’s name.

As the omega came down from his orgasm, Roger nuzzled against his soft stomach, laying a few lazy kisses across it as he twisted his fingers wickedly – making John shudder – before pulling them out.

John was always zoned out for a good ten minutes after sex, and today was no exception. Roger didn’t mind; he’d already gotten a rather spectacular blow-job earlier, and John made a pretty picture, sprawled out on the bed with a mess of slick between his thighs. The morning sun shone through their cheap curtains, casting an orange light over the whole scene that Roger thought made it look rather romantic.

After a few minutes, Roger hauled himself up to wipe his face clean with a discarded shirt, then leaned in to kiss John’s cheek, prompting a soft sigh from the younger man.

“I’m showering first,” John mumbled, the words slurred somewhat. Roger scoffed.

“How’s that fair?” he shot back, nipping at the shell of John’s ear, “We should shower together.”

“Last time we did that, we got distracted, and then there was no hot water left after to clean up with,” John said, voice a little clearer now. Evidently, he had mostly pushed through his post-coital haze. “Besides, I’m dirtier, so I get to shower first.”

It was a hard point to argue. Roger’s textbook on human biology said that omegas didn’t produce excessive amounts of natural lubrication outside of heat, and he knew for a fact that that was utter bullshit. Not that he was complaining, it certainly made sex easier, but he didn’t envy John the clean-up afterwards.

“Fine, fine,” Roger conceded, “But it’s your turn to change the sheets.”

John just laughed, climbing out of bed and heading through to the bathroom. Roger flopped back on the bed and sighed. They had their first proper rehearsal with the band that evening, and he still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. John certainly seemed excited. It was the first thing he’d mentioned when Roger woke up, right before things had started to get steamy, and Roger was sure he’d hear about it again over breakfast.

A knock on the door stopped Roger from dwelling on that much further, and he rolled out of bed with a groan, grabbing a pair of skinny jeans on his way to the door and quickly tugging them on before he opened it.

He was greeted by the sight of Brian, looking remarkably well put-together for nine o’clock in the morning. It was a bit of a shock, in all honesty. Roger had been expecting the postman, or maybe the landlady, but certainly not his new bandmate.

“Morning,” Brian greeted, evidently waiting for a response – which Roger didn’t supply. To his credit, Brian pressed on after the awkward pause. “Sorry to come so early in the morning, but I’ve got labs all day and I wanted to stop by before then. Is John in?”

Roger wasn’t paranoid usually, only when it came to John, and he thought he had good reason to be paranoid then. So, an alpha who he still didn’t know very well showing up unexpectedly, asking about John, sent off alarm bells.

“Sleeping,” Roger lied. Brian could probably hear the sound of the shower running. “Let’s talk outside so we don’t wake him up.”

Before Brian could reply, Roger was stepping out of the door – brushing past Brian as he did – and closing it behind him. He was half-tempted to lock it too, but he didn’t have the keys with him.

“So, why’d you come to see John?” Roger asked sharply, looking up at the alpha and nearly jumping. When had Brian gotten so close? It was as if the alpha had undergone a total change in demeanour in under thirty seconds, suddenly invading Roger’s personal space, and staring at him with dark eyes – his pupils blown out, leaving a scant ring of colour showing. Then, his nostrils flared a bit, and Roger raised an eyebrow.

“Did you just _sniff_ me?” he asked, a little incredulous, then repeated, “Why are you here, Brian?”

Brian’s gaze was still fixed on him, and he was still standing about a foot closer than Roger would have liked, but he didn’t want to take a step back either. He didn’t have the same instinctive understanding of dynamics that John did, but he had enough common sense to know stepping back was like admitting defeat. Finally, Brian spoke.

“John. I came to give him these,” he said, voice sounding strained, like it was a struggle to get the words out. He was holding up a bag, with what looked like two lever-arch files inside.

“You brought him a gift?” Roger asked, deadpan. It wouldn’t be the first time an alpha had tried to give John a gift since the Matthew incident. In fact, it was so common that Roger was used to rebuffing those sorts of advances, but this time was different. He actually felt disappointed. He’d thought Brian was different, but the weird behaviour and the gift-giving was a clear indicator that that wasn’t the case.

“He’s not interested,” Roger said coldly, taking a step back to make his way back to the door, fully intending to slam it in Brian’s face when the alpha spoke up again.

“Roger, wait.”

“I said he’s not interested,” Roger snapped, turning back to see… Brian actually looking a lot less weird than he had a few seconds ago. In fact, the alpha looked almost sheepish.

“Sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding,” Brian said.

Of course, John chose that moment to open the door to the flat. The omega was fully-dressed, thankfully, though his hair was still damp at the tips.

“Oh, hello Brian,” John greeted, before glancing between the two of them, apparently sensing the awkward atmosphere. Then, after a moment, John seemed to make some realisation, because he made a little ‘oh’ sound and his cheeks quickly coloured red.

“Go take a shower, Rog,” John hissed, looking mortified.

“I’m not leaving you alone with-“

“Roger!”

“But he’s acting weird.” Both of them turned then to look at Brian, who was stood quite awkwardly, looking in the opposite direction and obviously trying his best to give them a little privacy. He’d moved all the way to the opposite side of the corridor too.

“Rog, please just think for a second about what you smell like,” John said, voice hushed, and finally it clicked in Roger’s head. He’d pressed right up against Brian when he stepped out into the corridor. He’d pressed right up close to an unmated alpha, while probably reeking with the scent of John’s earlier arousal.

Brian cleared his throat.

“I was just dropping off my notes from first year, like we talked about,” he said, addressing John, “It’s quite a lot, but you said you had a lot of free time, so I thought you’d be able to get through it all.”

“Thank you, Brian,” John replied, voice soft, “Are you feeling okay?”

Roger thought it was a little over the top to sound so sympathetic over something that wasn’t a big deal in his mind, but he had to concede to John’s greater understanding in this particular area.

“Yeah, fine, sorry for the – er – confusion. I’ll see you both tonight,” Brian replied quickly, coming a little closer to hand the bag over to John – pointedly avoiding Roger as he did – before heading off back down the corridor, looking like he couldn’t get away fast enough.

As they watched him go, Roger turned to John, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“This is what happens when you won’t let us shower together,” he teased, laughing when John rolled his eyes and gently pulled Roger back inside the flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and for all of your lovely comments last chapter! As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated!


	5. Heart to Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen's first official rehearsal. Brian and Roger get talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T

“I wanted to apologise again, about earlier.”

Roger had been expecting something like that from the moment he’d volunteered to pair up with Brian to get caught up on the band’s set-list before rehearsing all together. It was a conversation he didn’t particularly want to have, but he hadn’t felt comfortable with the idea of leaving John and Brian alone together either. Not that he didn’t trust John, it was more that he still didn’t completely trust Brian.

“It’s fine, mate, no hard feelings,” he replied quickly, hoping to brush the topic under the rug and get on with some music.

“I should have been more – er – thoughtful, about your living situation,” Brian pressed on, and Roger groaned inwardly, twirling his drum sticks to distract himself from what he was listening to, “Really, I knew giving John those notes could be misconstrued, but I didn’t-“

“Honestly, it’s fine,” Roger cut in, “Shall we get started on this music thing? Or is the plan to just get up on stage and monologue about what happened this morning?”

Brian looked shocked, but after a moment of processing what Roger had said, he chuckled a little.

“Good point,” he said, “So, we usually start our shows with one of my songs, Keep Yourself Alive, it goes like this.”

From there, Roger allowed himself to get lost in the music. He’d seen Brian play before – part of the audition had been playing alongside Freddie and Brian, to make sure everybody meshed well together – but sitting up close as the alpha played, Roger could tell it was something special. Plus, there was something undeniably appealing about practiced fingers moving with precision over guitar strings – it was something Roger had always appreciated when watching John play, even long before he’d been willing to admit his feelings for the omega.

Aside from that one similarity, Brian had a whole different appeal to John. Even though he didn’t play up being dominant like most alphas did, Brian gave off an effortless impression that he had everything under control. Despite that, though, he still had a gentle way about him – in the way he handled his guitar, the way he responded thoughtfully to Roger’s questions, and the way he held a hand out to stop Roger from tripping on cables on his way up to the drum rises. Roger was starting to see – with no small amount of reluctance – why John had so quickly seemed more comfortable around Brian than he’d ever been around an alpha before.

It took about an hour for them to get through the basics of what Brian had selected as the most important songs for Roger to know, and once they were done, Brian stepped out briefly to see what progress John and Freddie had made.

He returned looking a little amused, and a little guilty.

“I should have known better than to trust Fred to stay on topic. He’s got John’s stage look all planned out, but they’ve still got two songs to go through,” Brian explained, “Do you think there’s anything else we need to cover?”

“Honestly, I think I’ll pick it up faster once we’ve got four of us playing properly,” Roger replied. He’d always been more comfortable learning by doing, especially when it came to drumming. Brian just nodded, and then Roger found himself speaking again without really meaning to. It was just that Brian seemed so approachable, and the thoughts were already on Roger’s mind, so the words simply spilled out.

“I appreciate what you did for John this morning, by the way. And how you and Freddie haven’t been weird about letting him in the band.”

Brian looked just as surprised to hear that as Roger was that he’d actually said it aloud.

“That’s not something you need to thank us for,” Brian replied, after a brief pause, “John’s a good player, there’s no reason he shouldn’t have joined.”

“I know that,” Roger said, “But most people don’t see it that way. And he doesn’t complain a lot, but I think he’s been pretty miserable stuck at home. I didn’t really realise that ‘til I saw how happy he was the other night at the pub.” Roger really couldn’t fathom why he was saying all of this. Brian was just looking at him with the most understanding eyes in the world, and he couldn’t help it. “Makes me a kind of shitty boyfriend, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t think so. I doubt John would agree with that either,” Brian replied, voice measured and thoughtful. With anyone else, Roger might have thought they were just saying the polite response, but Brian sounded like he genuinely stood by the words. “You’re doing the best you can in a broken system. It must be difficult.”

“It’s fucking impossible,” Roger muttered, “It drives me crazy, I feel like I can’t _do_ anything. There’s always some law in the way, or some shit about dynamics I still don’t have a bloody clue about, and even the stuff I _do_ know about, I forget when it’s actually important. Like this morning.”

Brian put a hand on his shoulder, and Roger would have thought it was the last thing he wanted, but it actually felt quite nice. Sturdy, and dependable.

“I know we don’t know eachother very well, and you’re – ehm – you’re obviously quite guarded around alphas – for good reason. But, I’m happy to talk about these sorts of things, if you need somebody to talk to,” Brian said, and Roger couldn’t fathom why he felt so much better just to hear that, but he did. Really, if he thought about it, this had all been on his mind for a while, but he could hardly say it to John – who had his own issues to deal with – and Roger’s beta friends didn’t really get it.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he said, clearing his throat and trying to regain his composure a little, “Thanks.”

They passed the rest of the time waiting for Freddie and John making small talk about what bands they had liked growing up, and when they each started playing music. Brian was actually quite easy to talk to, Roger found, when he didn’t have his guard up so much.

When John and Freddie finally came in to say they were all caught up, John was dressed up in satin trousers and a billowy shirt that certainly didn’t belong to him. At least that explained why those two had been so delayed. Freddie went on to spend at least five minutes detailing why the outfit was perfect on several levels, as John valiantly tried to hide behind his bass.

It wasn’t until after the rehearsal proper – which actually went very well, by Roger’s estimation – that he and John had a chance to catch up properly. The moment they did, after bidding Brian and Freddie goodnight, John stepped in to kiss Roger, and then immediately reared back a little.

“What’s wrong?” Roger asked, perplexed.

“Nothing. You just smell… different. How close did you and Brian get in there?” John asked, sounding rather bemused as he leaned in to nuzzle a little at the crook of Roger’s neck, seeming more pleased by whatever scent he found there.

“Oh. Well, we just got talking, y’know, nothing weird,” Roger replied with a shrug, and John seemed to accept it, taking Roger’s hand as they headed back to their flat. He did insist that Roger wash the scent off before bed though, and Roger complied, rolling his eyes and making a few comments about overly sensitive noses. Really though, even with his limited understanding of how everything worked, it was nice to have the reassurance that John preferred Roger’s limited scent to whatever alpha musk Brian gave off.

Roger slept better that night than he had in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! It was fun to write a bit more of a Maylor-y chapter, poor Rog tries so hard.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! Extra love goes out to those of you who have been commenting on every chapter so far, I can't tell you how much it motivates me <3
> 
> edit: Also, thank you for over 100 kudos! That was a pleasant surprised to wake up to :)


	6. Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band have a get-together over dinner at John and Roger's place. Roger would be fine with that, if John's heat wasn't just around the corner...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M, to be on the safe side

One month in, and things were going better with Queen than Roger ever could have anticipated. They’d played a few small gigs at university pubs and dive bars, and generally the reception was good – of course, there were always a few jerks who made a fuss about John’s presence, or tried to grab at him after the show, but they were quickly shown the door.

He knew Brian was at least partly to thank for how well things were going. The guitarist tended to be the one organising where they played, and he only went for venues that didn’t condone overt sexual harassment – a fact that had only come to light after Freddie asked why they never played at the Four Dragons anymore, and Brian had awkwardly explained that the manager had asked for a ‘private meeting’ with John, and so Brian had blacklisted the whole venue.

That particular evening, the band was convening at Roger and John’s bedsit for the first time – something John had insisted on, because he felt rude that they never hosted band get-togethers. Roger, for his part, thought it was perfectly reasonable that they never hosted, since Brian and Freddie both had bigger places, while their bedsit didn’t afford much privacy, the kitchen, bedroom, and living room all being one large combined space. It was especially reasonable not to host with John’s heat right around the corner - the bed already a nest of pillows, blankets and a few of Roger’s winter jumpers – but John had ended up winning the argument.

Of course, Freddie in all his naivety about dynamics stepped into the flat and immediately commented upon noticing the bed: “God, you two must boil in there.”

“It’s only temporary,” Roger muttered, not particularly a fan of the set-up either. It certainly made John happy, but it was roasting hot at night, and Roger was looking forward to the end of John’s heat when all the blankets would be packed away and wouldn’t show up for another three months.

“Nice place you’ve got, very cosy,” Brian jumped in, changing the topic before Freddie could question further, “Where should we sit?”

Roger directed them to the ‘living room’, which was really just a ratty sofa and two mismatched chairs with a coffee table in the middle for good measure, but it would do. The sofa had also fallen victim to John’s instincts – draped with blankets and pillows that weren’t really necessary at this time of year.

John was already sat down, just hanging up the phone as the others joined him.

“Curry should be here in twenty minutes,” he said, and Roger thought he saw concern flash over Brian’s face, but when he looked again it was gone, and he quickly forgot about it as talk drifted to band matters.

It was only half an hour later, when the curry had arrived and John had served it up on plates for them that Roger noticed the concerned look return. Brian would occasionally give his lamb Balti a hesitant poke, but was actually only eating plain rice.

Roger was about to say something, when Freddie beat him to it.

“Oh dear, Bri, did they get you something with meat in it?” Brian pursed his lips.

“Do you not like meat?” Roger asked, a bit confused, and Brian seemed to fumble for an answer. When Roger thought about it though, he couldn’t remember ever eating meat when they were at Brian’s place.

“He’s a vegetarian, darling, won’t touch the stuff,” Freddie replied in Brian’s place, “Here, Bri, have my onion bhaji.”

“Sorry, I thought you knew,” Brian said eventually, looking weirdly guilty. Sure, Roger didn’t really know any vegetarians, and he’d certainly never heard of an alpha being one, but it wasn’t a bad thing. Then, he realised that Brian’s guilty look was more aimed at John

When Roger turned to look at his boyfriend, John looked devastated, practically on the verge of tears. It was such a shock that although Roger felt like he should do something, he didn’t know what. He couldn’t even begin to figure out why John looked so upset.

Brian seemed to know, though.

“It’s fine. I’ve got plenty of rice, and Fred’s onion bhaji, and this – uh – this tea you made is great, Deacy. I wasn’t very hungry anyway,” the alpha said quite insistently, and Roger was still confused, but John at least seemed a little less crushed after hearing that.

“I’ll remember for next time,” he said, and it made Roger uncomfortable, hearing John’s voice sound so small and not understanding _why._

“Of course. Don’t worry about it,” Brian insisted. Roger was at least relieved to see Freddie looking similarly baffled by the whole exchange, as Brian quickly changed the subject back to set-lists for their next few gigs. It took John another few minutes to go back to eating his own food, and Roger didn’t miss the way the omega shifted to press closer to him on the sofa.

He would have to catch Brian later and ask him what the hell had happened.

 

\--------------------

 

Brian was a little surprised that, when Freddie and John decided to go up to the roof for a smoke, Roger didn’t also go along. It quickly became clear why he hadn’t, though. The moment the door shut behind the other two, Roger turned to Brian.

“So, what the hell was that earlier?”

There was no need to ask Roger to clarify what he meant, Brian knew exactly, and he certainly did owe Roger an explanation. It was just an awkward topic. Although he and Roger had shared a few rather in-depth conversations about dynamics, the topic of heats was never brought up – Brian imagined because it was something quite intensely personal. Roger probably didn’t even realise that what he was asking was linked to that, so it seemed Brian would have to be the one to break it to him.

“John’s close to going into heat, isn’t he?” he began, deliberately keeping it vague. In fact, Brian could tell from the scent lingering in the air that John was about two days away from his heat.

“You can tell, can you?” Roger asked, snorting. The question was clearly rhetorical – even if Brian couldn’t smell it, the way the bed was set up would be a dead giveaway.

“Correct me if I’m wrong about any of this, but was it John who wanted to have the band meeting here?” Brian asked. Roger nodded. “And he picked what food to order?” Roger nodded again.

“What’s that got to do with heats?” Roger asked, and Brian looked down at the floor rather than meeting his gaze. Although Roger was usually quite happy to learn about this stuff, Brian suspected he might react badly to this.

“Well, first, let me be clear that I don’t think he’s doing this consciously,” Brian began, “But it’s not unheard of for omegas who are close to their heat to get a bit… I suppose you would say ‘house-proud’? That’s why they might make nests-“ he gestured towards the bed, “-or invite over the people they feel most safe with.”

“He’s never invited people over right before a heat before,” Roger pointed out.

“Possibly because he didn’t have anybody he felt completely safe and comfortable around, except for you.”

Roger was frowning, but seemed to be taking in what Brian was saying, so he pressed on.

“The thing is, the purpose of these sort of get-togethers – in theory – would be two-fold for an omega. On the one hand, he’s making sure he has a good network of people to protect him when he’s at his most vulnerable. And… And on the other hand, he’s trying to show his alpha that he’s a good mate,” Brian said. He was trying to keep the language technical, and not personal, but still felt his cheeks colour a little. Roger didn’t look pleased.

“The issue – that’s the wrong word – the _instigating factor_ here was that you’re a beta, and while John knows he’s in a relationship with you, he’s not entirely himself right now and there’s some part of him that saw that situation, saw me as the only alpha in the room, and concluded that I was the one he needed to impress,” Brian continued, trying to keep his tone measured even as Roger’s frown deepened. “That’s why he was upset about thinking I wasn’t happy with the meal, because that would – in very simplistic terms – mean he’d failed in his objective.”

Roger looked hurt, and Brian wanted to give him a hug, but he suspected the younger man might try to break his arm. He really did feel bad about it, and he could imagine that the whole thing would seem more of a big deal to Roger than it would to an alpha or an omega, who could better understand that sometimes, instincts were just instincts and they didn’t really mean anything.

“So, you’re saying John fancies you,” Roger finally said, and Brian was quick to shake his head.

“No! No, I don’t think John is any less in love with you than he normally is. His head’s just in a strange place right now,” Brian explained in a hurry.

“Right,” Roger murmured, hands twitching towards his jacket pocket, “I might go out and join Deacy and Fred for that smoke, actually.” He stood up, grabbing his keys from the counter before looking back at Brian again. “Maybe you should go home.”

Brian couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. He really was very fond of Roger, he liked their heart-to-hearts just as much as he liked the conversations they fell into about music, and the jokes they shared about whatever outrageous thing Freddie was doing. More than that, he respected Roger for his musical talent, and for how much he cared for John. Brian didn’t want Roger to be so upset with him that he couldn’t bear to be in the same room together. It was a relief, then, to hear the beta continue speaking.

“It’s not- I’m not pissed off, or anything. It’s just that if you being here might make John act like that again… I don’t like seeing him upset, especially when it’s for no good reason.”

That made sense, Brian couldn’t really blame Roger for that sentiment, so he grabbed his coat, following Roger out in silence.

“Take care, Rog, I’ll see you next week,” Brian said, giving Roger a pat on the shoulder before they went their separate ways, hoping sincerely that Roger had been telling the truth about not being angry at him. Time would tell, he figured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't I spoil y'all ;) I was going to save this for tomorrow, but then I wrote a whole other chapter too, so I thought two in one day would be okay.
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments and kudos so far! I love reading your comments, some of you point out things I thought people wouldn't really pick up on!


	7. Hot and Bothered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the second day of John's heat, and Roger is exhausted already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E (to skip past the smut, you can start reading at "After a few minutes...", but the whole chapter deals with explicit themes)

“Knot me.”

They were the words Roger dreaded hearing, that always inevitably came anyway. He groaned a little, twisting his fingers where they were buried inside John and leaning forward to press kisses down the dip of his spine, hoping it would distract the omega a little.

It didn’t. They were halfway through the second day of John’s heat, and the ever-present desire to be knotted only seemed to be alleviated when he passed out from exhaustion every couple of hours.

“Please,” John keened, arching his back a little more, like that would magically turn Roger into an alpha who was capable of giving his boyfriend what he needed. Of course, he didn’t blame John. He was always completely out of his head for the first two days of his heats, never remembered a thing that happened during them, and didn’t even seem to remember Roger’s name. The three days after that weren’t so bad – at least then John was coherent.

John made a plaintive keening sound, which drew Roger out of his thoughts, and he sighed. They’d been going for a while now, and while most of the time John could manage to finish without being knotted, there were times when he seemed to get stuck on the brink of orgasm, unable to tip over the edge without it. This looked like one of those times.

“Okay, babe,” Roger murmured, stroking his free hand over John’s back soothingly, “Think you can relax a bit? I don’t want to hurt you.” He said the words, even knowing John probably didn’t process them as anything but noise.

With the next thrust of his fingers, Roger added a fourth, and John sobbed, his legs twitching as Roger rocked his fingers in and out. Roger must have done this more than a dozen times since John had first shyly suggested that it might be a good substitute for a knot, but he still didn’t particularly like it. It was fine when John was in his own right mind, but when the omega could barely speak, it just made Roger worried that he was going to hurt him.

Shaking those thoughts away and trying not to overthink it, Roger pulled his fingers most of the way out – wincing at the wrecked little whimper it drew from John – and curled his thumb in towards the centre of his hand. Carefully, Roger eased his hand forward, slowing each time he felt a little resistance, until John’s slick entrance was stretched around the widest part of his hand.

The effect was immediate. All of John’s restless shifting and the desperate rocking of his hips ceased, and he simply shuddered, spilling over the sheets with a breathy moan. Roger’s hand was already starting to cramp a little, but he knew better than to pull out straight away. Instead, he rocked his hand just barely back and forth, watching as John trembled through the aftershock of his orgasm, panting and making soft little sounds of pleasure.

After a few minutes, Roger brushed John’s hair away from his face, which was half-pressed into the pillow, and stroked his cheek, caressing the flushed skin. John’s eyes were closed, and he seemed to have dozed off, which was a relief.

Roger eased his hand out, wiping it clean against the bedsheets – they were going to need to be washed a few times after this anyway – and then clenching and unclenching it until it felt normal again. Next, he eased away the pillows that had been propping John’s hips up, manoeuvring the omega so he could lie down comfortably, and did his best to wipe away some of the slick coating John’s thighs with a towel.

Finally, Roger flopped down on the bed, feeling utterly drained and praying that John would be asleep for at least a full hour this time so Roger could have some much-needed rest and relaxation. He let his eyes fall shut. Just five minutes to cool down, and then he’d get something to eat, he thought. Maybe he’d feel better after-

“Roger.”

Roger nearly had a heart attack when he heard John’s soft, scratchy voice. Surely, the omega couldn’t be awake again so quickly? Fortunately, a quick glance over told him that John was just talking in his sleep. It was a good sign, at least, that in his sleep John could remember who Roger was. Maybe when he woke up, he’d be clear-headed again.

He knew John couldn’t help it, but Roger desperately missed proper conversation. After Brian had left the other night, Freddie had commented that heats sounded like ‘a great time’, and Roger had wanted to throttle him for it. Heats were lonely. John was there, sure, but he barely acted like the man Roger knew.

Getting up from the bed, Roger grabbed his dressing gown and tugged it on, heading over to the kitchenette to quietly make himself a sandwich when his gaze caught the telephone, sat unassumingly on the coffee table.

It _would_ be nice, he thought, just to talk to somebody for a few minutes. But who could he call?

He found himself dialling Brian’s number after only a moment of thought. He could have cried in relief when he heard the familiar voice over the phone.

“Hello, Brian May speaking.”

“Hi, Brian, it’s Roger,” he said, careful to keep his voice down lest he wake John.

“Roger?” Brian asked, sounding distinctly surprised. It made sense. Brian knew full well John was in heat, he probably expected Roger to be preoccupied. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine,” Roger said, shifting to sit properly on the sofa and sighing, “I guess I just wanted to talk to somebody. John’s not really very chatty right now.”

“Ah. I see.” Brian sounded completely understanding, and it was a balm to the worry in Roger’s chest. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I didn’t really think that far ahead,” Roger admitted, fiddling with the chord of the phone.

“I could tell you about the paper I’ve been reading?” Brian offered, and it didn’t sound particularly interesting, but Roger was desperate.

“Sure. Go ahead.”

He sat and listened to Brian rattle on about some fascinating research on asteroids that Roger’s frazzled brain only understood about five percent of, but it was nice just to hear Brian talk. After about twenty minutes, he seemed to run out of things to say though, and so asked.

“How’s John doing?”

From any other alpha, it would have been a particularly unwelcome question. In fact, Roger was pretty sure it broke some unspoken rule of etiquette, but he didn’t mind that from Brian. He knew the alpha just genuinely cared.

“He’s sleeping,” Roger replied, sighing, “And when he’s awake, he’s… I don’t know, honestly. I can’t tell. He doesn’t…” Roger hesitated. This suddenly felt far too personal to be sharing with Brian.

“We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” Brian said gently, and so goddamn considerate that Roger couldn’t help himself. He was sure John would understand.

“He’s not like himself. And I know that’s normal, but I fucking hate it. I mean, all of it is pretty exhausting, but I wouldn’t mind being tired and sore if I could just- just _talk_ to him afterwards,” Roger snapped, voice still hushed, “I feel like… Like I miss him, even though he’s right there. And then I feel guilty, because however bad this is for me it’s probably ten times worse for him. He just seems so miserable and there’s barely anything I can do for him because I’m not- I’m not what he needs right now.”

He felt breathless after the confession, which itself was born out of exhaustion and frustration.

“I’m sorry, Rog,” Brian sighed, “I wish there was something I could do to help. Does John know that it upsets you this much?”

“Usually I feel better by the time he’s back in his own head again,” Roger mumbled.

“You should-“

Roger was distracted from whatever Brian was saying by a rustling from the direction of the bed. Sure enough, John seemed to have woken up again. The omega could probably manage a few more minutes alone, but Roger would have felt bad leaving him.

“Sorry, Bri, got to go. Thanks- thanks for the chat.” And with that, Roger hung up the phone, and made his way back over to John.  

Later that night, when Roger was lying in bed, one arm slung around a flushed and restlessly-sleeping John, there was a knock at the door. He wasn’t sure who the hell would be knocking at this time, but there was always the chance it was something desperately important, so he rolled out of bed to look through the peep-hole. Nobody was there, and he was about to write it off as him hearing things when he saw a note had been slipped under the door.

> **Sorry to dash, didn’t think a personal visit would be appropriate. - Bri**

Had Brian come over just to leave a note? That didn’t make much sense, so Roger cracked the door open, frowning a little in confusion when he saw that a cardboard box had been left by the door, with a note taped to it bearing the same sign-off as the note under the door.

Quickly grabbing it, Roger headed back inside, sitting on the bed – John gravitated back towards him in his sleep – and reading the note on the package.

> **Nothing special, just a few things I thought might be appreciated. Don’t forget, you need to take care of yourself too!! – Bri**

Curiously, Roger unpicked the tape sealing the box shut, peeling it away to reveal the contents: three heating pads (the packaging claimed they were a relief for sore muscles), a few energy bars, a pack of Vitamin C supplements, and a particularly fluffy towel. Brian was right, none of the items were particularly special in their own right, but Roger thought it was probably the most thoughtful, well-timed gift he’d ever received. For a moment, all of the stress and exhaustion that had been building for the past two days seemed terribly small, and Roger couldn’t help but smile.

Brian really was something special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I think this is potentially a lot less sexy than people would expect from a heat chapter, so sorry about that :')
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated as always! I'm actually now one chapter ahead in my writing of this fic (literally that's never happened to me before), but I still take into account what people say in the comments when I edit/write future chapters, so let me know what you think!
> 
> Next chapter is more Breaky-ish (unless I totally rewrite it....)


	8. That Sinking Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger has to leave for an exam right after John's heat is finished, and John hadn't really realised how hard he would take being alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T
> 
> (hi it's me, your local Queen stan who's terrible at keeping to a posting schedule)

John worried at his lower lip, and glanced again at the clock. Only two minutes had passed since he last checked, so that made it three hours and thirty- _two_ minutes until Roger would be home. That seemed like far too long to bear.

Honestly, John hadn’t expected this reaction. True, he always liked to spend a lot of time cuddled up to Roger the day after his heat, and did sometimes find he was a little emotionally oversensitive, but it had never been like this. Then again, he’d never in his life had to spend the day after his heat alone – Roger always took the day off, needing to recuperate himself, and when John was younger, he’d had his family around him.

He glanced around the empty flat, and felt tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

It was stupid. At least when he was in the throes of heat, John didn’t have the sense to feel silly for how he acted, but he felt fully aware now and utterly ridiculous for being unable to last a few hours without Roger holding him. Roger who was sitting an exam, which he’d barely been able to study for in the first place because of John’s heat.

Just thinking of being a burden on Roger made the hollow feeling in John’s chest expand, and he took a few deep breaths to try to calm himself down.

A distraction. He just needed a distraction, that was all. Roger wasn’t available, but John had other friends.

He dialled Freddie’s number first, bouncing his leg nervously as he listened to the phone ring, and ring, and then go to voicemail. Of course, Freddie probably had more interesting things to do.

There was still Brian, though.

John hesitated. It could be very easily misconstrued, to invite Brian over right after his heat, and when Roger wasn’t around. But Brian wasn’t just any alpha. He was respectful, and considerate, and had never given any indication that he didn’t take John and Roger’s relationship seriously. On top of that, John felt dreadfully lonely, and Brian was his last option.

He dialled the number, and felt relieved when Brian picked up almost immediately.

“Hello, Brian May speaking.”

“Hello, Brian, it’s John.” He could practically hear Brian’s smile over the phone, and it made the aching loneliness in John’s chest ease for a second.

“It feels like ages since I last spoke to you. How are you feeling?” Brian asked.

“I’m fine, thanks,” John said, and it was pretty much a lie, but he didn’t want to get into it over the phone, “Are you- are you busy today?”

“Not particularly, why?”

John hesitated, but the whole phone call would be for nothing if he didn’t at least ask.

“Would you like to come over? I’ll make lunch, and- and maybe we could talk through those notes you lent me, I’ve got a few questions,” he said. He could hear Brian hesitate on the other end of the line, and he knew why.

“Will Roger be in?” Brian asked eventually.

“No, he’s got an exam.”

“And you’re okay with it being just the two of us?” Brian pressed.

“I trust you,” John replied, adding for good measure, and because he knew Brian was probably thinking it, “Roger wouldn’t mind either.”

“Okay then.” Despite the questions, Brian sounded quite happy at the idea. “I’ll be over in about thirty minutes. Oh, if you’re making lunch, don’t forget that I don’t eat meat.”

John was sure he only meant it as a friendly reminder, to save John from being embarrassed again, but in his current state just the reminder of that incident made his stomach sink, and his lower lip wobble a little.

“I won’t. Bye, Brian,” John said quickly, and then hung up, hurriedly wiping his eyes and cursing at himself. He hated this. Heats were only supposed to be five days, he was supposed to be back to normal by now.

Sighing, John went to splash his face with cold water, hoping he could keep his emotions in check once Brian arrived.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

John found that he didn’t feel much better just for having Brian over. To begin with, he’d realised too late that neither he nor Roger had been shopping since before his heat, so there was no fresh food in the cupboards. He’d had to serve Brian cheese and crackers, which the older man had insisted was perfectly fine, but had made John feel like he was dying inside from shame. The sooner his instincts took a back seat and let him act like himself again, the better, as far as John was concerned.

“Then all you have to do is cancel out the factorials, and you’ve got the result you need. Does that make sense?” Brian was saying, finishing off his explanation of the problem John had been struggling with. John stared at him blankly. He was, in all honesty, completely distracted and hadn’t really heard a word of the explanation. The explanation that Brian had obviously put some effort into giving, and John hadn’t even had the common decency to listen to it.

He felt a traitorous prickling sensation in the corner of his eyes.

“John?” Brian asked, starting to look concerned now, “If there’s a bit you don’t understand, I can go through it again.”

If Roger was just there, John was sure things would be alright. If Roger was holding him, he’d understand Brian’s explanation, and he wouldn’t feel so ridiculously _sad_ for no good reason.

“Sorry, could you-“ John’s voice cracked, and he faltered, before pressing on. If he acted like nothing was wrong, perhaps Brian wouldn’t notice. “Could you explain it again, please?” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded shaky, and he was sure Brian wasn’t fooled one bit.

“It’s a pretty tricky example, don’t worry too much if you don’t understand it straight away, I’m sure it took me a while,” Brian said gently, then paused and added, “Is something else bothering you?”

“Sorry,” John murmured, wiping his eyes to little effect, “I guess I’m not really feeling like myself. And- And I miss Roger.”

It sounded so pathetic when he said it aloud. He’d had Roger completely to himself for five full days, and now a few hours apart and John could barely hold it together. He was crying properly now, great, racking sobs that shook his shoulders and made his already-sore body ache even more.

John had half-forgotten that he wasn’t alone in the room, until he felt a hand placed tentatively on his shoulder, and he leaned into the touch without thinking. When he glanced up, blinking away tears so he could see properly, John was met with the sight of a rather concerned looking Brian.

“Sorry,” John murmured again.

“You don’t have to apologise,” Brian replied, voice firm. It was comforting to hear the other man sounding so sturdy, when John felt like he was crumbling in on himself. “When will Roger be home?”

“Not for another-“ John glanced at the clock, and felt another round of tears coming on, “-two and a half hours.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Brian asked, his hand stroking a little over John’s shoulder, and John could think of something. It just didn’t seem like an appropriate thing to ask.

Then again, he thought, he wouldn’t feel weird about asking that of Freddie, or of another omega. It was just because Brian was an alpha, but he’d already made it clear that he could be trusted…

“Could you just… hold me, for a bit?” John asked, the need for human contact overcoming his trepidation about Brian’s status as an unmated alpha.

“Are you sure that’s-“ Brian began, and John was nodding before he’d even finished the question.

“You- you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I think it would help,” John said, cheeks flushing as he started to feel pathetic for even having to ask. It was just as he was becoming certain that Brian was about to turn him down that he felt the sofa dip under the alpha’s weight, and then Brian was closer, and wrapping his arms gently around John’s waist.

It felt nice. Not quite the same as Roger’s hugs – but that was most likely because John had no qualms about clambering onto Roger’s lap when they hugged, and peppering his face with kisses. John hesitated a little, before shifting closer, wrapping his arms around Brian and burying his face against the older man’s shoulder. The moment he did, it felt like something warm and soft had replaced the emptiness in his chest, the worry and anxiety fading almost alarmingly fast.

Brian’s scent – like most alphas – was overpowering in its intensity, and usually John found it jarring, but now it just made him feel safe. He found he didn’t mind being engulfed in it. Brian stroked his back gently and murmured words that John’s hazy mind didn’t really pick up on as he cried against Brian’s shoulder, the heaving sobs replaced now with quiet, sniffling ones.

It was definitely more than a few minutes before John pulled back – Brian letting him go easily. He felt weak from crying, and was half sure he’d fall over if he tried to stand up, but the ache in his chest was gone.

“Thanks, Bri,” he said softly, reaching up to scrub his face dry of tears, “I feel a lot better now.”

“Anytime,” Brian replied, looking so sympathetic that John had to glance away, “Do you want me to stay until Rog gets back?”

“That’d be nice.” John smiled a little, perhaps the first time he’d really smiled all day. “Maybe we could have another go at that mechanics problem?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

\------------------------------

Even a couple of hours after the hug, Brian was still trying to muddle through how he felt about the whole thing. It wasn’t so much that he regretted it, or thought he should feel guilty – after all, he’d do the same for Roger or Freddie, and why should John be any different? But then, of course, John was undeniably different. Even after two hours, the omega seemed cloaked in Brian’s scent, and Brian supposed he should be glad Roger was a beta, because if he was an alpha and came home to find his mate covered in another alpha’s scent, Brian doubted he’d be walking out unscathed.

It had just been a platonic gesture, though. As he watched John scribbling down equations, insistent on attempting the rather tricky problem himself with just a few hints from Brian, the alpha began to wonder what he should do when Roger returned. He didn’t have to wonder for long. It seemed that as soon as the topic crossed his mind, the sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the quiet flat.

“I reckon I aced that, believe it or not,” Roger’s voice sounded from the doorway, “There was this twelve-marker on synapses that I fucked up, but the rest- Oh. Hi, Brian.”

Brian gave an awkward wave. John, for his part, seemed still quite absorbed by the problem he was working on. It was safe to say he seemed to have powered through whatever emotional funk he’d been in earlier.

“Hi, Rog,” Brian greeted, “John was feeling a bit – uhm – a bit out of sorts, so I came over. Sounds like the exam went well, though, well done.”

Roger, to his credit, seemed to recover quite quickly, and smiled.

“Yeah, yeah, really well,” he replied, “I mean, this morning I was convinced I had no chance of even passing, so I’m pretty happy.”

Beside him, Brian felt John suddenly sit up, and then a notebook was dropped on his lap.

“Check that, would you, Bri?” John said, before jumping up to go over to Roger. As Brian glanced through John’s neat working out, he saw the couple share a kiss out of the corner of his eye, Roger whispering something in John’s ear that made him laugh and slap Roger’s arm playfully. They really were quite sweet together.

“Looks good to me, Deacy, top marks,” Brian said, once John and Roger had stepped apart from one another and he no longer felt like he was interrupting anything. John beamed, and Brian couldn’t help smiling back, but he knew he was probably overstaying his welcome now. “Perhaps I should make tracks.”

“You can stay for dinner, if you like,” Roger said, and it surprised Brian a little. Despite all of the chats they’d had, up until now, Roger had still seemed just a little wary around him. The idea wasn’t unappealing, though.

“Sure, I’ll stay. Assuming John’s not tired of me yet,” he replied, and John smirked.

“Oh, I don’t know, I think I could stand another hour or two before I get completely sick of you,” he joked. There was no doubt, then, that the younger man was feeling back to normal. It was a relief, in a way. Brian couldn’t really blame John for falling victim to his own instincts every now and again – Brian knew exactly how it felt, and how impossible it was to resist at times – but he far preferred seeing John acting like himself.

John ended up cooking – rather insistent that Roger should be relaxing after having an exam – and Brian was about to offer to help when Roger caught his attention.

“Uh, Bri, do you want to go up for a smoke?”

Brian didn’t smoke, but he suspected Roger knew that, and was asking him up for other reasons, so he nodded.

When they got up to the roof, Roger didn’t speak immediately, lighting up and taking a few long drags. In fact, it ended up being Brian who spoke first.

“Have you ever heard of post-coital dysphoria?”

Roger gave him a confused look, and shook his head.

“It – sorry, if this is a bit personal – it’s something anybody can get, really, regardless of dynamics. But it’s more common with omegas after heats. I think John suffers a bit from it,” Brian explained, wondering if he should have just kept his mouth shut about it.

“What are the symptoms?” Roger asked, still frowning a bit, holding the cigarette at his side.

“Feeling anxious, or depressed. After sex, hence ‘post-coital’,” Brian replied, “It’s a temporary thing, for most people it lasts under an hour, but there have been some studies showing omegas can get it for up to a few days after a heat.”

“He does get a bit funny right after heats,” Roger mused, “I never realised it had a name. Where do you even learn all this stuff?”

Brian shrugged.

“I read a lot about it when I was younger. I thought- I thought if I understood my own biology, I might have a bit more control over it,” he said, the first time he’d admitted as much to Roger. It had been a nightmare, at times, to grow up with his instincts dragging him in the opposite direction to his own moral compass.

“Did it help?” Roger asked, tone free of judgement.

“Over time, yes, I think it did.” Roger just nodded, and they lapsed into silence again.

Brian found that, once more, he was the one to break it.

“I hugged him,” Brian said, “John, I mean. He was upset, and asked me to, so I did. I’m sure he’d have told you himself, but I didn’t want to seem like I was keeping it a secret.”

Brian wasn’t sure what reaction he expected, but it surely wasn’t for Roger to _smirk._

“I assume that’s why you asked me up here,” Brian continued, “To ask about what happened while you were out?”

“No, actually,” Roger replied, still smirking as he took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled smoke, “I asked you up here to thank you for the present. It helped a lot. Usually, I feel like absolute shit after a heat, but I felt pretty good today.”

“Oh,” Brian said, “Well, good. I know it was a bit cobbled together, but I’m glad you liked it.”

“It was great, Bri,” Roger laughed, stubbing out his cigarette against the brick wall, and turning to head back inside, “But if you want to get me something better for next time, I won’t complain.”

“Now you’re just being cheeky,” Brian chuckled, and Roger laughed too as they made their way back down to the flat.

It was only when Brian was walking home alone – after staying ‘til past midnight, listening to records on John’s pristinely cared for record player, and laughing at Roger’s increasingly outlandish anecdotes – that he realised there was a small part of him that wished he have stayed with them. And the moment he noticed it, he squashed it down, firmly ignoring it and marching the rest of the way home stony-faced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had a whole other chapter in mind, but I was listening to My Melancholy Blues and this one just came out, so I felt it was only fair to give the song a shout-out in the chapter title (go listen to it if for some reason you haven't already, it's an absolute tune).
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated! I'm so so grateful to have so many regular commenters who leave such long and insightful comments on this fic, I can't tell you how much content already has been the direct result of reading a comment and thinking to myself 'oh actually that's a neat idea'. So I guess what I'm saying is that I steal from y'all ;) Thanks for reading <3
> 
> Also, I made a tumblr! Fic updates might get a little less frequent, as I start work again soon, so please feel free to send headcanon requests, lil fic prompts, or any questions/thoughts about Queen stuff and my fic over there. It's s0meday0neday(.tumblr.com)


	9. One Year On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year later, and Queen are looking to record their first album.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T, maybe an M if you squint
> 
> CW: casual sexism, but of the a/b/o variety

It became a bit of a ritual, over the following year.

John would invariably invite Brian and Freddie over for something to eat a couple of days before his heat was due, and Brian would take the opportunity to drop off a little care package for Roger. Never anything too fancy, but nonetheless greatly appreciated. Over time, Brian started dropping in little items for John too – packets of herbal tea that were meant to ease cramps, scentless soaps so John could shower during heat without his eyes watering from the smells assaulting his oversensitive nose.

And then, after John’s heat was over and the flat was cleaned up, Brian would come over to play Scrabble, and talk to John about physics, and flip through the couples’ slowly-growing record collection. On one occasion, Freddie came along too, but it was only Brian that was there every time – there was no denying that the whole routine was more for the three of them, and not really a band activity.

Roger didn’t see an issue with the whole situation. In fact, he quite liked it. He didn’t feel nearly as miserable during heats, and John seemed to return back to his normal self in the aftermath much quicker than he used to. So, all in all, things were going well.

Things were going well with Queen too. It was the summer of ’72, and they were in talks with Trident Studios about recording their first album, which still seemed quite unreal to Roger.

It was only two days since John’s last heat, but as a largely-unknown band, they couldn’t really demand the meeting be rescheduled. Besides, John insisted he was fine, and he certainly seemed okay on the journey up to the studio. Most of the drive was spent with John explaining financial terms to a slightly clueless Roger and Freddie, as Brian rolled his eyes and smirked like the all-knowing geek that he was in the background.

“You know, I’ve never bothered with any of this taxation malarkey when I sell stuff out on the market,” Freddie remarked as he climbed out of the van.

“Just don’t let Inland Revenue hear you say that,” John retorted, rolling his eyes when Roger offered a hand to help him out of the van, and climbing out by himself. “Honestly, Rog, I’m not an invalid,” he murmured, quiet enough that the other couldn’t hear, and Roger pretended to take offence.

“That’s what I get for trying to be nice, is it? Maybe I was just worried about you in those bloody platforms,” he teased back.

“Freddie says they’re fashionable!”

“They are, but now I’ve got to stand on my toes all day to look taller, I hope you’re happy,” Roger shot back, pressing a quick kiss to John’s cheek as the omega laughed. John slung an arm around Roger’s shoulder as they walked into reception, and Roger couldn’t help but feel ridiculously happy. They were going to record an album together, most likely, and he was madly in love, and was probably going to have fantastic celebratory sex later because he couldn’t imagine the meeting would go badly with John’s sharp financial eye on their side.

That happiness managed to persist even through the relatively dull discussion about contracts, and royalties, and song rights. Brian fielded most of that conversation, with John chipping in occasionally, and Freddie asking his fair share of questions while Roger sat back and tried to pay attention. He knew logically this was all pretty important, but he also knew that John grasped it ten times better than he ever would, and he trusted John wouldn’t agree to any sort of deal that was going to screw Roger over.

So, Roger felt no real qualms signing the contract set out in front of them when John gave him a nod. In fact, he felt pretty good about the whole thing, right up until they were shaking hands with the alpha representative of Trident Studios – he’d introduced himself as Drew or something that sounded like Drew, Roger hadn’t really been paying attention.

Drew was shaking Brian’s hand, but his gaze was raking over John as he leaned in and said something that was apparently only for Brian’s ears. Roger couldn’t hear it, but he could see the smile drop from Brian’s face, his mouth pressing into an uncomfortable thin line and his brow furrowing a little.

“Perhaps,” was all Brian said in response, jerking his hand away but still giving a forced smile. Roger knew Brian by this point though, well enough to see indignation and disgust and something like guilt written all over his face. The one small mercy was that John seemed oblivious to the whole exchange, too busy carefully filing their copy of the contract away into a manila file.

Roger knew whatever had been said would probably make him angry, but also he knew that he’d go crazy thinking about it if he didn’t find out. Fortunately, an opportunity to ask Brian presented itself later that evening.

They were at Freddie’s flat, celebrating the imminent recording of their debut album with disgustingly cheap vodka and dusty bottles of cider that Freddie had fished out from behind a similarly dusty and gaudy lamp. It seemed he’d been keeping them there for aesthetic reasons.

Of course, as soon as chatter turned to deciding what bar – or rather, what sequence of increasingly cheap and run-down bars – they would go to celebrate at, Freddie declared that he had to pick something for John to wear. It was somewhat of a pet project of his, these days, to dress John up, and while Roger did like the clothes John picked out for himself, he couldn’t deny that he was a fan of the more fashionable and snugly-fitted looks Freddie would foist upon him. John didn’t seem to mind the whole ordeal – he and Freddie had gotten surprisingly close, considering their rather opposite natures.

The impromptu restyling took place in Freddie’s bedroom, leaving Roger and Brian sat in the living room. Brian – who was pretending to sip at a cider but not actually drinking anything – had been rather quiet the whole evening, and Roger was willing to bet that it was because whatever that Drew guy had said was still on his mind. Not one to beat around the bush, Roger just came out with it.

“So, what the hell did he say to you back there?”

Poor Brian jerked so much in surprise at the question that he splashed cider over Freddie’s vintage rug.

“Nothing,” he said, after taking a moment to steady himself, and Roger was quick to shoot back.

“Bullshit. He said something to you about John, I know he did and you know too, so just tell me what it was.”

“You don’t want to hear it, Rog, it was just sexist drivel,” Brian sighed, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

“I want to hear it.”

“Rog-“

“If we’re going to work with this guy, I deserve to know if he might try something on my boyfriend.”

It was a good point, and Brian knew it – it showed in the look he gave Roger, a little exhausted but mostly resigned.

“He said… He said he was surprised I hadn’t mated John yet. And then he said it was a smart business move, having an unmated omega in the band to bring more alphas into the audience. He was wondering if it would catch on,” Brian said, voice strictly monotone as he relayed the words, though Roger could hear the underlying anger in them.

Roger’s anger was far less underlying.

“And why the hell did you just let him get away with saying that?” he snapped.

“Listen, Rog, I know it’s a shitty thing to say but we’ve signed the contract. We’ll record the album, and we don’t have to sign on for another one. Making a scene wouldn’t have helped anyone, and it’s not what John would want either,” Brian replied, sounding like he’d been saying those words to himself for the past few hours.

A thousand retorts came to Roger’s mind. _You’re an alpha, you have no idea what it’s like. How do we know somebody like that won’t try to hurt John? Why do you think you know John better than I do? You care about this album more than you care about him._

It was when that last thought ran through his mind and fell to the tip of his tongue that he faltered. Because he _knew_ Brian cared about John. Brian was busy writing songs and working on his PhD and he still dropped everything every three months to distract John from the blues he fell into after his heats, never expecting anything in return. It was undeniable that he cared.

So Roger pushed back the anger, and said what was plaguing his mind beneath all of it.

“This is what it’s going to be like, isn’t it? If we _are_ successful. That’s what people are going to say about John, no matter how good he is,” he huffed, and he must have had more to drink than he thought, because he could feel tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, that he quickly blinked away.

Brian - stupid, lovely, considerate Brian – looked so sympathetic that it only made the whole thing worse.

“Probably,” the alpha replied, and he was telling the truth, of course, but Roger half-wished he would lie.

“It’s bullshit.”

“Yeah, it is,” Brian agreed.

“How does it not piss you off? How did you not just deck that guy in the face when he said that shit?” Roger huffed.

“It does piss me off. If it had come as a surprise, I probably wouldn’t have taken it so well, but I already knew people would say things like that,” Brian sighed, and that sent another spark of anger through Roger.

“And you didn’t think to warn John?”

Brian paused, looking almost confused.

“Rog… John was the one who warned _me.”_

Seeing that Roger wasn’t responding, Brian pressed on, “A while ago, now, when we first started getting serious about recording an album. He and I were talking about what we wouldn’t back down on when negotiating a contract, and he said… Well, there was a bit more to it, but really he said that he didn’t expect any studio to be fully accepting of his role in the band, and that he’d rather I play along and not make a fuss if they made a few off-colour comments.”

For a few moments, Roger didn’t say anything, just letting his mind churn through the new information. Even anticipating being looked down upon and devalued, John had walked into Trident Studios with a smile on his face. It broke Roger’s heart to think that John was so used to being seen that way.

It was only when the door burst open that Roger refocused on the present moment, just in time to see Freddie tugging an outrageously trussed-up and giggling John into the room. Both he and Freddie looked pretty sloshed, and an explanation for that came quickly in the form of a half-empty bottle of rum that Freddie dangled before them.

“This little minx found it under my bed, decided we’d get our fill before letting you letches get your hands on it,” he declared, and that sent John into another wave of giggles, which he did a poor job of stifling against Freddie’s shoulder. Roger had been pretty convinced that nothing could put him back in a good mood after Brian’s revelation, but seeing John look so carefree was coming close. He was also rather grateful that both Freddie and John seemed too wasted to read the mood of the room they’d walked into.

“You look good in those,” he murmured as John dropped onto his lap, stroking one hand up John’s satin-clad thigh.  

“You can take them off me later,” John replied, voice barely lowered – though fortunately, Brian and Freddie now seemed distracted with their own conversation. John leaned in for a kiss then, but stopped just inches away from Roger’s face, squinting and frowning a little. “Are you okay?”

Roger hesitated. He’d been trying to get better at talking to John when things were on his mind. Really, he had Brian to thank for that. Whenever Roger came to him to ask about some dynamics issue, Brian was happy to answer his questions, but would always gently suggest Roger talk to John about it too. Still, he didn’t want to ruin John’s night, not when the omega seemed to be having such a good time.

“I’m fine. It can wait ‘til tomorrow,” Roger replied, closing the gap between them to press a quick kiss to John’s lips. “Now tell me again what’s going to happen when I get you alone later…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I ummed and ahed over whether to do a timeskip now, because I had a few more drabbley ideas for what might happen before this point, but I figured I could always write them up later as oneshots.
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments ;) Also, as always, if y'all have any requests / stuff you'd particularly like to see in future chapters, feel free to drop them in the comments.


	10. Drowned Sorrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys experience living together as a band for the first time when Trident sends them to rehearse for their first album in a disused old pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E (there's nothing I would call actual smut in this chapter, but Lots of references to it)
> 
> CW: There is a very brief, blink and you'll miss it, non-con reference. It's in no way condoned by any of the characters.

When Brian stepped back into the disused pub that had been their temporary home for the past week, he was greeted with the sight of Roger sat behind his drum kit, hammering out something fast and heavy as John watched – only looking away for a moment to give Brian a little acknowledging nod and smile.

It wasn’t exactly a glamorous place to be staying, but Brian couldn’t deny that it was a good move on Trident’s part: renting out the old pub to give the band a space to rehearse and write a few more songs before they went into the recording studio next month. The only slight frustration was that the closest shop that sold anything more than milk and newspapers was a good thirty-minute drive away, and Brian was usually the one who got stuck going, as he was deemed ‘reliable’ enough not to forget anything important.

“This is the same one you were writing lyrics for last night?” John was saying, and Brian realised Roger had stopped drumming, looking a little breathless.

“Yeah, Modern Times Rock n Roll,” Roger replied, standing and wandering over to John, who had a smirk playing over his lips. Roger gave him a questioning look, then seemed to figure out the source of John’s mirth, and groaned. “Don’t even say it.”

“ _Bum-sucking,”_ John mumbled, and Roger rolled his eyes.

“It’s a real word! Besides, I can’t change it now, nothing else fits.”

“I never said you should change it! I just think it’s funny when you say it. But the lyrics are good, they’re jaunty, I think it’ll be fun to play live,” John said, amusement still clearly audible in his voice. With a grumble that sounded something like ‘I’ll show you jaunty’, Roger was leaning in, obviously planning on kissing John before the omega’s hand settled on his chest and kept him back.

“Did you manage to get everything at the shops, Bri?” John asked pointedly, and Roger rolled his eyes once more.

“It’s just Brian, Deacy, he doesn’t care if we-“ Roger began, and was promptly cut off again by John.

“Traffic wasn’t too bad, I hope.”

“I got everything on the list. And potholes are more an issue ‘round here than traffic,” Brian replied, “Where’s Fred?”

“Writing lyrics upstairs. He decided his fairy song needed a total revamp, but he’ll probably go back to liking the original by tomorrow,” Roger said, lighting up a cigarette to occupy his mouth, now it was obvious he wasn’t getting a kiss from John while Brian was still in the room.

“Right,” Brian said, “Well… Let’s hear this bum-sucking song then, Rog.” Beside him, John tipped his head down, trying to suppress a laugh, and Brian couldn’t help but smile. He could get used to this, he thought, domestic life with the rest of the band.

Brian held onto that sentiment for the rest of the day, even as Roger fussed about the tweaks suggested for his song, even as John accidentally tripped him up with trailing cables, and even as Freddie trounced the rest of them at Scrabble later that evening. In fact, it was only when Brian was making his way to bed that he would come to realise the major pitfall of sharing a house with his best friends.

\-----------------------

“We can’t, Rog,” John huffed, though the protest was half-hearted – he certainly wasn’t making any effort to climb out of Roger’s lap.

“We’ll be quiet,” Roger replied, reaching down to squeeze John’s arse and smirking when his hands weren’t batted away this time. Despite all of his apparent shyness, John was the one who had pressed Roger against the wall the second they were alone together in their tiny bedroom. John wanted this, it was plain as day, the only thing in their way was-

“They’ll _know_ ,” John hissed, not needing to clarify for Roger to understand he was talking about Freddie and Brian – the only other two occupants of the old pub.

“Not if we’re quiet.” Roger quickly pressed his lips to John’s before the other man could come up with a retort, pretty sure he’d won already. John certainly seemed to be persuaded, kissing Roger back hungrily. A slamming door, and the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs ruined that. John broke the kiss, teeth worrying at his lower lip.

“Brian will know,” John muttered, starting to pull back and Roger could have whined for how much he desperately didn’t want John to move away. And besides that, Brian’s was the last name he wanted to hear when his boyfriend was pressed close to him, acting coy but looking unbearably sexy – flushed and dark-eyed.

Brian was his friend, of course; Roger thought he was great… The issue was that he and John had barely been intimate since arriving at the new rehearsal space, and so Roger’s increasingly randy brain was keen to view everything with an erotic filter. ‘Everything’ here really just meaning ‘Brian’ – Brian and his stupidly long legs, and his talented fingers, and the way that sometimes he would lean across the sofa and whisper some comment or joke right in Roger’s ear and send shivers down his spine.

Not that Roger would ever act on any of that. It was half of why he was so eager to shag John, because surely that was all he needed – if he and John had sex, then Roger would have no reason to be looking at other men and feeling shit about himself because of it.

“He’s across the hall,” Roger said, realising he’d probably been quiet a suspiciously long time.

“Rog,” John sighed, looking so unfairly beautiful as he looked pleadingly at Roger, that the beta couldn’t help but catch his lips in a brief kiss. It had been a relief, at least, to realise that his weird attraction to Brian hadn’t done anything to dampen how much he adored John.

“He’s not gonna know,” Roger insisted, already knowing that the argument would fall on deaf ears. John was weirdly cagey about being anything close to intimate when Brian was nearby. As far as Roger understood it – after John’s many shy and increasingly frustrated explanations – being around Brian so often meant that John had become more ‘tuned in’ to his scent, and could pick it up from further away, and tell if Brian was feeling any particularly strong emotions, just from his scent. Although Brian hadn’t mentioned it, John was assuming the reverse was also true.

It was all a bit hard to imagine for Roger. And he didn’t get why John couldn’t just _ask_ Brian he was experiencing the same thing – when he’d suggested it, John had given him a look like he was mad, but Roger couldn’t be sure if the reluctance stemmed from some genuine taboo, or just John’s anxious nature.    

“He’ll know, Rog, the scent…” John mumbled, interrupting Roger’s thoughts and confirming his suspicions

“So what? Bri can’t expect us to act like monks for weeks on end just for his sake,” Roger pressed, leaning in and nipping playfully at the side of John’s throat – that usually did the trick, provoking some instinctive reaction that rarely failed to rile John up. Sure enough, the omega keened a little, tipping his head to the side and closing his eyes. Briefly, Roger wondered whether he would be able to smell John’s arousal now, if he were an alpha.

“That’s cheating,” John protested, though it sounded particularly half-hearted, “We really shouldn’t, Rog, it’s not fair on him… And won’t it be awkward over breakfast?”

“I’ll bring you breakfast in bed,” Roger insisted, “Fuck, John, I’ll bring you breakfast in bed all bloody week, I’m going crazy here.”

John hesitated, lower lip red now from how much he was biting at it. The anticipation was killing Roger.

“I suppose-” John began eventually, and then had the audacity to pause for so long that Roger thought he might just die before John finished his sentence, “I suppose if we put a towel under the door, it might dampen the scent enough.”

Roger – who until moments ago had been convinced that nothing would persuade him to move away from John – practically jumped away from him, making quick work off stuffing a used bath towel up against the slight gap under the creaky bedroom door. Behind him, he could hear John laughing, but Roger couldn’t regret being over-enthusiastic once he was pressed close to John again, sharing hurried, hungry kisses as Roger urged John back in the direction of the bed.

If Brian and his crazy sense of smell _could_ somehow tell what was going on, Roger was willing to bet it would be one hell of an olfactory show.  

\-----------------------------------------

Brian bit down hard on the inside of his cheek as he knocked again on the bathroom door – the third time in about ten minutes that he’d done so.

“I’m not getting out yet, darling, so you can piss right off,” Freddie called, sounding rather affectionate even when he swore. Any other time, Brian might have appreciated that, but right now he was in hell and barely noticed it.

“Fred, please,” he called back, voice strained. Really, he knew he had no chance. Freddie had won Scrabble, which meant first dibs on the bathroom before bed, and everybody knew Freddie liked to take hour-long baths.

“If you’re so desperate to piss, go in the garden,” Freddie retorted, and Brian gave up, stalking back to his bedroom. He didn’t miss the barely-stifled moan that came from Roger and John’s bedroom on the way – in fact, it was just about all he could think about for thirty seconds before he clawed his way back to some semblance of self-control and slammed his own bedroom door shut.

Even in here, the scent was heavy in the air, John’s arousal practically beckoning him through the thin walls of the run-down pub. It had been all Brian could think about for the past ten minutes, and it was driving him half-mad not to just stick a hand down his trousers and bring himself off.

The issue with that solution was two-fold. Firstly, John would most likely know. And while Brian doubted the omega would judge him for getting off, the timing would look rather suspicious. Secondly, if he jerked off now, it would be to an inevitable tide of thoughts about Roger and John, and then he would feel desperately guilty afterwards and not be able to look either of them in the eye.

Although the scent thing was relatively recent, these feelings had been an issue for a few months now, in all honestly. Thoughts about John and Roger keeping him up at night. Every time he tried to masturbate, it seemed he couldn’t escape thoughts of Roger’s piercing eyes and of John’s soft lips or – more often than not – thoughts of how stunning the two of them must look together, rutting and grinding and doing everything that Brian decidedly should not be picturing his _friends_ doing. That was usually the point where he gave up and threw himself into a cold shower and told himself he was better than this – better than these instincts driving him to want what he couldn’t have.

Unfortunately, with the bathroom facilities occupied, Brian was getting a little desperate for another way to distract himself. John’s scent alone had had him achingly hard for ten minutes now.

“Fuck,” he hissed, banging his head a little too hard against the wall as he slumped back to sit on his bed. He’d thought he’d mastered self-control years ago – but clearly not. The most worrying thing of all was that his mind was still drifting to thoughts of Roger as well as John, and there was no way he could blame _that_ on instinct, given Roger’s beta nature.

 _Just wait it out,_ he thought, _They can’t keep going forever, the scent will fade, just wait it out._

So he tried. He really, really tried. Brian tried, and lasted for all of about five minutes, before the primal part of his mind supplied a particularly unwelcome thought. A thought of how there was nothing really stopping him from going across the hall and opening John and Roger’s bedroom door, considering how the rooms here didn’t even have locks and-

In a flash, Brian was out of bed. He hadn’t felt so uncontrolled since he was a teenager, and he hated it, hated how hard it was to shake off the alpha part of his brain. Without really processing the journey from his bedroom to the bathroom, Brian was hammering on the door again.

Distantly, he heard Freddie say something, and he heard himself growl out a reply, but the words were foggy and all he was really conscious of was that – a few agonising moments later – a very damp-looking Freddie was stepping out of the bathroom and Brian was hurrying to get under a spray of frigid water, still fully clothed.

The relief wasn’t instant. The steady stream of water kept the scent away, and from there it took a few minutes for Brian to fully come back to himself, gasping under the freezing cold spray but forcing himself to stay in place until his teeth were chattering and he was pretty sure he’d never be turned-on again in his life. Even then, he stayed put another minute or so, just for good measure.

As he climbed out of the shower, stripping out of his sodden clothes and making a valiant attempt to warm himself up with a threadbare bath towel, Brian couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that even now, mind unfogged by arousal, his chest still ached thinking about Roger and John. There was still an undeniable part of him that wanted so badly to hold the two of them, for no other reason than to be close to them. A part of him that saw John and Roger sharing soft smiles during rehearsal, and longed to be a part of that exchange.

Those were feelings no cold shower could wash away, and Brian could only groan as he flopped back into his bed, shivering and frustrated. Permeating the air was the far less intrusive, but nonetheless present, scent of John’s happiness, and Brian could only hope that the scent of his own misery wouldn’t be enough to ruin John’s good mood as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

He would get over this, he thought. He _had_ to get over this, for everybody’s sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Sorry this one took a bit longer than usual, but I hope it was worth the wait :)
> 
> So we can see now approximately what stage Roger and Brian are at in realising their feelings, maybe we'll see some of John's thoughts next chapter... 
> 
> As always, I love comments and kudos with all my tender heart, and I love chatting to y'all in the comments section, so hmu if you have any thoughts, questions, or ideas for what you'd like to see in future chapters!! Lots of ppl are eager for more Breaky and/or more Maylor, which I promise is on the way ;)


	11. Country Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and John have a chat about what happened the previous night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T (but there are references to the explicit events from last chapter)
> 
> CW: Once again, blink and you'll miss it implication of potential non-con.

John couldn’t decide whether Roger and Freddie’s utter obliviousness made breakfast more or less of an awkward affair. Freddie seemed quite content to chatter away about the new lyrics he’d been working on while sipping his morning tea, and Roger was quieter, but obviously on cloud nine, his fingers interlocked with John’s and a sappy little smile playing across his face.

Admittedly, the sex had been good. Both of them had sorely needed a bit of intimacy to alleviate the stress that came with preparing to record an album that could make or break their musical career. Besides that, Roger was very much into physical affection, and John found it hard to regret what they’d done last night when Roger had woken him up with a dozen soft kisses and now seemed happier than he’d been in days.

He did regret it, though. He regretted it because Brian seemed exhausted, and wouldn’t look either Roger or John in the eyes. Pair that with Freddie’s offhand comment about Brian kicking him out of the bathroom – not to mention the scent of distress lingering in the air - and John could just about piece together an idea of what had been going on while he and Roger were busy enjoying each other’s company.

“You still need to hear my new song, Fred,” Roger was saying through a mouthful of toast, “Everyone else has.”

“You say that as if I couldn’t hear it through the walls, darling,” Freddie replied, glancing up from his own breakfast with a mischievous smirk, “You can hear all sorts of things through the walls here.”

Roger scoffed, and John felt his own cheeks heat. Brian, more than either of them, looked distinctly uncomfortable, and sure enough, he cut in before anybody could continue that particular thread of conversation.

“I’m going to head out to the shops, do any of you need anything?”

Brian had been to the shops yesterday afternoon, it was an obvious excuse to get away from the rest of them for an hour or so. Fortunately, John had been looking for an excuse to have a chat with Brian – a chat that he didn’t particularly _want_ to have, but which he felt compelled to have for the sake of poor Brian’s sanity.

“I need a few things actually, Bri, mind if I come along?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but obviously it didn’t work because Roger shot him a curious look.

“I can get it for you, if you give me a list,” Brian replied, and John had anticipated that, quickly shooting back.

“No, I’m very particular, I’ll have to come along. Besides, I feel like I need a bit of fresh air.”

Brian faltered, obviously trying to think of an excuse, before relenting and nodding.

“Okay. We’ll head out in five.”

And then Brian was off up the stairs, and Roger was giving John that bemused look again.

“Something going on that I don’t know about?” he asked, and John leaned over to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Yes, but I’ll tell you about it later. I need to put my shoes on,” John replied, grabbing his mug of coffee and dropping another kiss to the top of Roger’s head before heading upstairs.

\---------------------------------------

Even if he racked his brain and thought right back to his childhood, John couldn’t think of any other alpha he’d met who was quite like Brian. Alphas – in John’s experience - tended to be rough, and possessive, and confident in the belief that omegas owed them their submission just for the fact that they’d been born of a certain dynamic. Of course, these traits came across in subtle ways in polite society, but they seemed ever-present, except with Brian.

His whole life, John had never felt so much affection for an alpha as he felt for Brian, and he was sure it was by virtue of the fact that Brian barely acted like an alpha most of the time. Brian was protective without being possessive, strong without being rough, and he didn’t seem to expect anything from John that he wouldn’t expect of any other person – regardless of dynamic.

John had also noticed that Brian tended to beat himself up a little too much for things that he couldn’t help. Hence, the impending conversation.

“So, about last night…” John started, trying to ease into the topic so Brian wouldn’t startle and potentially crash into a tree. They’d been sat in silence for the first few minutes of the journey, while John thought of the best way to tackle this, and it certainly did seem to shock the older man a bit.

Brian wasn’t replying though, just gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles had gone white. John decided to go for a gentler approach, because the scent of Brian’s distress in the air was almost too much for him – he couldn’t imagine what actually feeling all of that was doing to Brian.

“How long have you been more – er – more sensitive to… Well, you know what I mean.” Even though he’d planned it in his head, the question was hard to actually get out. It really wasn’t something people talked about. Usually, an alpha and an omega getting close enough to ‘tune in’ like he and Brian had was indicative of the fact that they were either mated or related. He and Brian were neither, and the whole thing would have been very taboo if Roger were an alpha. As he wasn’t, it was only a little taboo, but John didn’t actually mind it so much. Excepting the awkward situations it could bring about, he quite liked the closeness he felt with Brian now. More than anything, he trusted Brian with knowing that much about him.

“It’s been about a month for me,” John added, thinking maybe that would make Brian more comfortable to talk about it. He could feel his cheeks burning, even though he’d initiated the conversation.

“It’s – uhm – it’s the same for me. About a month,” Brian finally said, and his voice sounded strained, like he really didn’t want to have this conversation. Clearly, Brian didn’t feel quite the same way as John did about the whole ‘tuning in’ matter.

 “I’m really sorry about last night, John.”

John was a little surprised to hear it – he’d expected Brian to try to get away with saying as little as possible, which was John’s usual tactic when he was embarrassed by something. Still, the words made his heart ache a bit.

“I was going to apologise to _you_. That wasn’t fair of me, I’m sure I wouldn’t have liked it if the tables were turned,” John sighed, looking out of the window and trying not to think about the words he was saying too much, “Roger just- Roger doesn’t really understand. And he wanted to so we – er – we did. Sorry.”

“You and Roger can do whatever you want. You shouldn’t have to worry about- This shouldn’t even-“ Brian gritted out, then groaned a little in frustration, pulling the car over to rest at the side of the road, “Sorry, I can’t focus on two things at once.”

It was another thing that made John appreciate how different Brian was to other alphas, though. With any other alpha, being alone in a car together and then pulling over at the edge of an empty road would have John poised to make a run for it, but with Brian, he felt fine. As fine as he could while having a particularly awkward conversation about his sex life, at least.

“You’re right. I don’t _have_ to worry about how these things might affect you,” John said carefully, “But I still do. Because I care about you. Roger would too, if he understood what it was like.”

“Does Roger know?” Brian asked.

“He knows about the scent thing,” John replied honestly, “I didn’t tell him anything about last night. But I probably will, later on.”

There was a long pause again, and John half-expected Brian to pull back onto the road and continue their journey. He didn’t, though. They sat in slightly uncomfortable silence, save for the sound of John’s foot tapping nervously against the floor, for nearly a full minute before Brian spoke up.

“I could have hurt you.”

Brian sounded absolutely wrecked at the admission, and he kept his forehead pressed against the steering wheel, not looking at John. That was – admittedly – an issue John had never had to deal with. He’d had his instincts pull him in all sorts of directions, but usually they worked to his own detriment, not anybody else’s. He’d never had to worry about coming to after a heat and realising he’d hurt somebody he loved. Therein lay the major difference between John’s battle with his instincts, and Brian’s.

“I know. But I trust you,” John said softly, and it was absolutely true. He had a very soft spot in his heart for Brian. The alpha made him feel safe, and was interesting, and respectful, and quite funny too. It had taken time, but John couldn’t imagine feeling endangered by Brian. After all, Brian was so very conscious of his own nature, and obviously worked hard to fight back against it when it didn’t stay in line with his own ethics. John could appreciate that.

“I really… I care about you and Roger a lot,” Brian said, and John still couldn’t see his face, but it almost sounded like he was crying. He’d never seen Brian cry before. “I _hate_ that I can’t- I don’t want to be thinking those thoughts.”

“It’s okay, Bri, it won’t happen again,” John soothed, reaching out to pat Brian’s shoulder. What he really meant was that he and Roger wouldn’t do anything again to push Brian into that headspace, but Brian didn’t seem to take the comment that way, replying instead with a miserable certainty.

“It will.”

And John’s brain was buzzing with curiosity about what exactly he meant by that, even as Brian seemed to get himself under control again, wiping his eyes before he looked back at John.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to unload all of that on you,” he sighed, and John really just wanted to shuffle across in his car seat and hug Brian, but he doubted that would be helpful right now.

“I don’t mind listening,” John replied softly, “You’ve definitely done your fair share of listening to me. And Roger too, I bet,” he added with a bit of a laugh, feeling relief wash over him when Brian gave a huff of amusement.

“I guess I have, yeah,” he said, “Did you- did you actually need anything at the shops?”

“No, I just thought you’d rather not have this conversation around two people who don’t get it at all,” John replied with a shrug, and Brian finally flashed a bit of a smile.

“They are a bit clueless, aren’t they?”

“Oh, entirely. Freddie thought the other week that I could make people think I was an alpha by putting on a bit of cologne or something,” John said, and Brian joined him in laughing as he started the car back up.

And in John’s chest, he felt a spark of fondness for Brian – for the alpha who acted nothing like all the alphas who seemed intent on making John’s life utterly miserable. If it weren’t for Roger, he might have leaned over and kissed Brian on the cheek as they drove off down the country road.

John couldn’t know this but – if it weren’t for Roger – Brian would have kissed him back in a heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I didn't expect this to be out so soon. If y'all want to see the outtake of what was originally going to be this chapter, check out my tumblr (s0meday0neday) and marvel at how much it changed :')
> 
> Thanks for reading, though!! Hope you enjoyed having a bit more breaky content, and some of John's PoV on the whole thing!! I think the stuff in the outtake sheds a bit of light of why John is maybe a bit more slow to come to terms with having feelings for Brian, if you're curious.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos make the clouds part and the sun shine brighter! Come chat breaky with me.
> 
> Edit: Lovely, beautiful art of this chapter has been made!! Check it out here: https://discodeakys.tumblr.com/post/182478575698/i-could-have-hurt-you-brian-sounded-absolutely


	12. Two Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger can't imagine not loving John, but that doesn't seem to stop the feelings he has about Brian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E (no super detailed smut, but pleenty of discussion of it)

“Not at all? Seriously? Nothing?”

Roger was aware his own voice was pitched up and whiny, but he thought it was appropriate, given the context of his boyfriend oh-so-gently informing him that anything beyond snogging was off the table for next few weeks. The news was especially unwelcome the day after a particularly spectacular shag that had left Roger yearning for round two pretty much the whole day; staring at John’s lovely arse had been most of what got him through two hours of being told to slow down as he played the same bloody song over and over ‘til it was right.

“It’s not fair on him, Rog,” John replied, a phrase he must have said about twenty times already.

“I just don’t see how it can be that bloody bad,” Roger huffed. It wasn’t like he was angry at John over it. They’d gone periods of time without shagging before, of course, when Roger was cramming for his exams, or when one of them was ill, or right after a heat when both of them were exhausted and John was too sore to be interested in much more than gentle kisses for about a week. It was just that – much as Roger liked Brian, which he did, perhaps a little too much – there was something about an alpha dictating what happened in his and John’s sex life that rubbed him the wrong way.

John wasn’t helping by being so bloody considerate about the whole thing. Perhaps it was partly the stress of being cooped up, and working on an album that felt so high-stakes, but Roger half-wanted somebody to be pissed at.

The frustration bubbling up inside him eased off a little when John scooted over on the bed, turning Roger to face him with a gentle hand on his cheek and pressing their lips together. When they broke apart, Roger hooked an arm around John’s waist, keeping him close.

“I want to get it, John, I want to understand this shit but it doesn’t make any bloody sense to me,” Roger muttered. It felt like the perpetual challenge he had to face, being with John – the omega saw a whole other side to the world that Roger was blind to, and Roger hated the distance it put between them sometimes.

John hesitated, and Roger was on the verge of telling him he didn’t have to explain, when he spoke up – sounding a little nervous, which was unusual when they were alone together. Roger quickly realised why, when he heard what John was saying.

“Do you remember back when we were still in school? When we didn’t really have a… routine figured out, for my heats?”

Roger remembered very clearly. They weren’t fond memories.

There was this particular time at the start of John’s heat, lasting maybe an hour or two, where he transitioned from acting mostly like John to acting like nothing but the raw embodiment of all of John’s baser instincts. It was short – compared to the rest of the heat, at least – but it was terrifying. It was terrifying not just because John was losing control, but because he _knew_ it; he would do something and then be crying into Roger’s shoulder about it two minutes later because he hadn’t meant to. It was terrifying because Roger couldn’t help John regain that control, couldn’t do anything but hold him through it and swear up and down that John had nothing to be ashamed of and that it would feel better soon.

Nowadays, they didn’t have to deal with it. John had gone through enough heats and was organised enough that he could figure out when that particular hour would fall, and make sure he slept right through it.

“But Brian doesn’t get heats,” Roger pointed out.

“No, but it’s the same- the same sort of issue. He _knows_ he’s losing control, but there’s not very much he can do to stop it,” John sighed, “You would be upset if Bri… If he did something to make me like that.”

Roger reluctantly had to accept that as the truth. There were few things he hated more than seeing that helpless frustration in John’s eyes whenever his nature won out over his own will. And the more he thought about it, the more he realised he felt the same about Brian. It was obvious how much the alpha valued his self-control, and cared deeply about doing the right thing whenever he could – Roger realised that he didn’t want to see those things taken from Brian.

“I think I get what you mean,” Roger said eventually, realising he’d gone quiet, and John was watching him expectantly, “Doesn’t mean I love the situation, mind. But I get it.”

John seemed relieved, and gave Roger a smile that almost made the looming period of abstinence seem bearable. Unable to resist, Roger leaned in to kiss him, but paused just before their lips touched, murmuring lowly.

“I can still have a wank in the shower, right?”

He watched surprise wash over John’s face, and then smirked as the omega burst into a fit of giggles, slapping Roger playfully on the shoulder and taking a few moments to bring himself under control again, voice still wavering with suppressed laughter as he spoke.

“You’re such an arse.”

“You love me,” Roger countered, pulling John close again and actually kissing him this time. Much as he loved his bandmates, he really couldn’t wait to get back to his familiar old bedsit and show John just how much he loved him back.

\-----------------------------------------------

Roger had never claimed to be good at processing his own feelings. After all, it had taken him years to get his act together and realise his feelings for John were more than just platonic.

Still, he thought anybody in his shoes would be utterly confused by the mix of emotions he felt when he watched Brian playing the guitar.

The immediate reaction was frustration. Sure, he understood _why_ he and John couldn’t sleep together with Brian just across the hall, but it didn’t make Roger any less frustrated by the whole situation. It was all well and good in practice, but when John flopped face-first onto the bed after a busy day, jeans hugging his arse in all the right ways, Roger found he forgot the whole logical side of things.

The second reaction – which Roger was still convinced was a by-product of the frustration – was admiration. Not so much of Brian’s musical talent, though he had plenty, but rather of his lean figure, and the undeniably sexy cut of his jaw, and his dexterous fingers. Roger could imagine those fingers doing all sorts of things, very few of which involved guitars. All in all, it was safe to say that Roger was just glad nobody could tell from his scent when he was feeling particularly horny.

And finally, there was that deep-seated affection that he couldn’t shake. The one constant he felt these days when he looked at Brian, a fondness that he was pretty sure was just friendship. It had to be, right? Because Roger loved John, there was no doubt in his mind about that. Speaking of…

He glanced across to where John was sat. The omega was watching Brian too. Roger wasn’t as dumb as people so often seemed to assume. He’d noticed the way John watched Brian – ever since the two of them had gone to the shops together. John watched Brian like he was trying to solve a puzzle, but Roger was nervous to ask John what the hell he was looking for.

It would come to light eventually.

It had to.

Roger didn’t let himself look back at Brian, focusing instead on John. John and his lovely, concentrating face, and the way he tucked his feet behind the legs of the barstool he was perched on, and the way he nodded his head along with the beat that Roger wasn’t playing. After so many years of being sure he couldn’t want anything more than John, Roger wasn’t quite ready for that status quo to change.

Things would go back to normal, he told himself, once they left this bloody pub.

\----------------------------------------------------

 The first day back in their flat didn’t go exactly as Roger planned.

He really had planned it, too. He’d whispered all the explicit details in John’s ear last night, when the four of them had played Scrabble and gotten absolutely pissed to celebrate their final hours in that godforsaken pub. Scrabble had eventually turned to Tiddlywinks (played with Scrabble tiles), which had almost turned to Strip Tiddlywinks before Freddie thankfully passed out and that particular idea went with him.

That was about the time Roger had laid out his plan for John, and honestly, he’d been quite proud of it. Start off with a quick, rough shag to get everything out of their systems, then they could shower together, fit in a steamy make-out session before the water started to go tepid, and then back to bed where he could fuck John all slow and intimate. And after that, they’d spend the rest of the day in bed, being lazy and listening to good music and not thinking about the rest of the world or the bloody album or anything but each other.

Roger really just needed some time to focus on his boyfriend, and he was sure that then he could forget about everybody else.

It had started off so well, too. Really, Roger had expected John to be tired when they got back, because he’d snoozed through most of the car-ride home – obviously still a little hungover. It became clear, though, that John had just been saving his energy, because he’d been in a whole different mood the second they got through the front door, all rushed kisses and frantic efforts to get Roger out of his clothes as quickly as possible.

Things went pretty much according to plan from that point. The first time – with John on his stomach and moaning unabashedly into the pillow – was glorious. The way John practically sobbed when Roger first thrust into him almost made the wait worth it, and even if it didn’t quite, the shower afterwards certainly did, when John nuzzled close to him and rubbed the knots out of Roger’s shoulders and suggested almost shyly that he might like to be on top for round two. Roger hadn’t been able to say yes quickly enough. Really, it shocked him that John was even shy about asking, because every single time the omega had wanted to top in the past, Roger’s response had been an enthusiastic and resounding ‘Yes, please’. It only happened once in a blue moon – John really had to be in a particular mood for it – but the few times it had happened, it had been amazing.

John didn’t disappoint this time around – even though he’d gotten a bit overwhelmed by it all and they’d had to switch positions to Roger riding John midway through. It was perfect, and afterwards Roger felt gloriously achy and content, stretched out on their bed with John beside him.

That was about the point that the plan fell to pieces.

“Can we talk, Rog?”

Roger’s initial suspicion was that it was about the sex. Despite Roger’s best efforts to assure him otherwise, John still had some weirdly persistent hang-ups about his ability to do anything in bed that didn’t fit ‘what an omega should do’. It wasn’t something they discussed too often – being one of those messy topics where about half of the way John acted was genuinely tied to his own preferences, and the other half linked back to some bullshit he’d been taught and hadn’t been able to shake. Still, Roger wasn’t one to shy away from awkward topics.

“It was really good, John,” he said, rolling over onto his side to look at John, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear, “Really fucking good. We can do that more often, y’know. If you want.”

“Not about that!” John huffed, rolling his eyes like he was exasperated, though he had one of those sweet, wobbly smiles plastered across his face now. It was the smile John always wore when he was complimented on something he was insecure about, and Roger loved it, practically had it committed to memory.

“What about, then?” Roger asked.

John paused, glancing at Roger, then at the inch or two of empty space between them, like he was unsure whether this was a conversation to have up close or with a bit of distance. The fact that John apparently needed to think about that at all had Roger a bit nervous.

Finally, John seemed to settle on shifting marginally closer, fingers skimming oh-so-gently over Roger’s chest. It was nice, but did absolutely nothing to prepare Roger for the terrifying question that followed.

“How do you feel about Brian?”

If John’s fingers had stopped in the lazy circles they were tracing over Roger’s skin, he might just have felt Roger’s heart stop.

“What do you mean?” Roger asked carefully, and his voice sounded suspicious even to his own ears. Maybe John could smell when he was lying now, was that a thing that happened? Surely not. But then, how would John know about Roger’s less-than-innocent thoughts about their guitarist? Or even worse, could John possibly know that beyond the attraction that could be explained away as proximity-induced lust, there was something deeper?

“Just what I said, how would you say you feel about him?”

John’s voice wasn’t giving anything away, and it drove Roger crazy. The omega wasn’t even looking him in the eye, gaze instead following where his fingers danced across Roger’s skin.

Roger could barely define how he felt about Brian in his own mind, but he knew what he felt was more than what he should feel. Really, he probably could define it, he was just afraid to -- like he’d been afraid to define how he felt about John back before that first kiss. Perhaps he could just feed John an acceptable line? Brian was just a friend – it wouldn’t be lying to say that, would it? After all, he and Brian were just friends, in that moment, even if some part of Roger wanted something more. Perhaps on a technicality, it wouldn’t be lying, but it definitely felt like it.

He didn’t want to lie to John.

Fortunately, he was saved from having to, because suddenly John’s hand had stopped moving, and he was looking over at Roger with an openness in his eyes - a vulnerability that threw Roger for a loop almost as much as the words that John spoke.

“I think I really like him.”

Roger’s mind screeched to a halt. He’d been so caught up in his own feelings about Brian, so freaked out by the whole thing and trying so hard to hide it from John that he hadn’t even taken a second to think of how John might feel about the alpha. And it made sense, too, that John would feel that way. He and Brian had a lot in common, even beyond their compatible biology. All of those thoughts went through Roger’s mind, but what came out of his mouth was the decidedly less sophisticated:

“You _like_ him, you mean? As more than just… bandmates, or friends, or whatever?”

John nodded, and though he’d sounded rather confident in his initial statement, he was shrinking back a bit now – still with that vulnerable look in his eyes, waiting for Roger’s verdict on the whole situation, and Roger wanted to give it, but he needed to wrap his head around things first.

“Do you feel… Have things changed, between us?”

“Of course not.” The reply came comfortingly fast, and sounded utterly sincere.

“So you like both of us?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you weren’t interested in alphas.”

“So did I.”

Roger couldn’t really bear to leave John looking so nervous anymore. Even with John’s confession hanging in the air, though, saying the same thing felt impossibly hard.

“I – uh – I quite like him too,” Roger managed to get out, feeling wound tight with nerves until he saw the relief flood John’s face.

“I thought you did. But it’s hard to be sure,” John sighed.

“Wait, you did? How?”

“I was looking for signs.”

_“Why?”_

“Well,” John began, “That’s the other thing I’d meant to mention. I think… Well, there was something Brian said, after the whole _incident_ a couple of weeks ago, he said something that made me think… And then I spoke to Freddie about it, and he said… Well, he made me really convinced of the idea.”

It was quite unlike John to say so many words without actually getting to the point.

“He agrees with you about what?”

“That Brian seems to feel the same way. About you, and – er – perhaps me, as well.”

This was all a bit much to process for Roger. To go from the guilt of having feelings for somebody else when he was dating John, to finding out that John liked that same guy, to finding out that Brian might like them back? It was a lot for a man to hear in one go. He was itching for a smoke, but one glance at John told him there was something more important to do for the time being.

Sure enough, John seemed to finally let out a breath he’d been holding when Roger scooted over and pulled him into his arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead and letting John bury his face against his shoulder.

“What do you want to do about it?” Roger asked after a moment of just holding John, fingers carding thoughtfully through his hair.

“I never thought I’d like an alpha,” John mumbled, “I never thought I’d like anyone but you, actually.”

“You can’t say things like that, then complain I’ve got a big ego,” Roger teased gently, and John laughed against his shoulder, giving him a light slap on the back. “You know… You know I’m happy with you, right? And I don’t want to say ‘just you’ because that makes it sound like I’m settling, and I’m not. I’m happy with you. So whatever you want to do, we can, but we don’t have to do anything.”

“Brian deserves to know, at least,” John murmured, “Because if he _does_ have those feelings, he probably feels terrible about it.”

“And then what?”

“And then… We make a decision together, I suppose. If we’re all on the same page,” John said carefully, and his fingers started pattering nervously against Roger’s back, “Which we might not be.”

“That sounds… sensible.”

“It is.”

Roger’s heart was about ready to beat out of his chest just at the thought of telling Brian. Sure, John said Brian felt the same, and Roger could kind of see it… He could see that Brian seemed to like John, at least. Thinking back to the way Brian looked at John, the way he practically doted on John after his heats, the soft laughter the two of them shared over stuff in Brian’s old physics notes that Roger didn’t get… Roger probably would have noticed far earlier, if he hadn’t been so used to the usual ways that alphas showed their attraction to John: the unwelcome gifts and the leering stares and the derogatory comments.

“What are you thinking about?” John’s voice was soft, and unjudging.

“You and Bri,” Roger replied, “If I weren’t in the picture, you two would probably-“

John nipped that train of thought in the bud, pulling back to look Roger in the eye.

“If you weren’t in the picture, I wouldn’t have met Brian. I’d probably be- I’d be-“ John’s voice wavered, and Roger didn’t need the words to be spoken. They’d never acknowledged it, but both of them understood well enough that John had only been able to stay unmated by virtue of having somebody there looking out for him and supporting him. “Well, I wouldn’t be here,” John summarised neatly, “And I wouldn’t have joined the band, and I’d be miserable, probably. So don’t think about how things would be without you in the picture, Rog, because there wouldn’t be a picture without you.”

And it soothed a worry Roger hadn’t even realised was starting to form in his chest – because John was an omega, and Brian was an alpha, and even though Roger hardly subscribed to the norms of their society, he was still at his roots aware that he didn’t fit into that dynamic so neatly.

Roger liked Brian a lot. He really did - beyond just a physical attraction, Brian was kind and clever and when he and Roger talked, it felt like they’d known eachother far longer than they had. Despite that, though, there was a small, niggling part of him that was scared of Brian knowing. Not because it might embarrass him, or because he didn’t like Brian, but because he didn’t want to lose the closeness he had with John.

He wrapped his arms a little tighter around John’s waist.

“Do you think we can wait to tell him, ‘til after tomorrow? I want to take you out somewhere first, just the two of us,” Roger said, half-embarrassed at how sappy that came across, but he knew John wouldn’t judge him for it.

“That sounds good,” John said, smiling now and pressing a brief kiss to Roger’s lips, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Roger couldn’t imagine a day when he ever wouldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not expect to be posting this tonight!! Lots and lots and LOTS of love to Kt_fairy who gave me the confidence boost I needed.
> 
> Thank you everybody for reading, and for all the love this fic has gotten so far <3 As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! I hope you enjoy this one, I'm off to bed now!


	13. Two and One Make Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a day just to themselves, the time has come for Roger and John to have a talk with Brian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T
> 
> CW: Vague references to non-con. Nothing explicit or detailed, and nothing more extreme than has been in previous chapters.

Roger wasn’t used to being the first to wake up.

Usually, he awoke to sunshine and the screech of the kettle, with John already up and pottering about. It wasn’t particularly uncommon for Roger to decide it was simply too early and just doze off again – sometimes, he would even wake up the second time to find John had climbed back into bed with him, a book in one hand while the other gently stroked Roger’s hair.

This was nice too, though. Just watching John sleep, his hair rumpled and his boxers sitting low on his hips - low enough to show off a few of the love bites Roger had left after their date last night.

Glancing at the clock told Roger that Brian would be here in two hours, still plenty of time to let John have a well-deserved rest. It had been John who’d phoned Brian yesterday – inviting him over for lunch without giving away much of the real reason they wanted him to come over – which meant that Roger was the one stuck with the responsibility of actually telling the alpha what was up. His stomach was twisted in knots about it. The nerves probably explained why he’d woken up so early.

Of course, he liked Brian, and he was undeniably excited at the prospect of taking things a step further with the alpha. At the same time, Roger didn’t like to be rejected – something he’d never really been subjected to in the romantic sense – and he particularly didn’t like the idea of being rejected by somebody and then going to awkwardly record an album with them.

Beside him, John shifted, and for a second Roger though he’d woken up, but in fact John was just nuzzling closer to Roger in his sleep.

He was glad they’d gone out yesterday, just the two of them. They’d agreed to ban ‘Brian Talk’ during their date, and Roger had taken the time to just enjoy John’s company. He didn’t think he would ever grow tired of it.

Roger could still remember the first time he and John had gone out as a couple. It had taken more than a month for them to even acknowledge that what they were doing – the secret kisses and the lingering embraces – actually was dating. Even then, both of them had been nervous to try anything in public for a good few weeks. For the first date, they’d wandered through town until they found a restaurant busy enough that they wouldn’t get strange looks when they held hands, and cheap enough that they could afford it. Afterwards, John had taken Roger to a quiet spot in the park and kissed him in public for the first time, and after that Roger had taken John home and done far more than just kiss him.

As well as he could remember that first time, Roger could remember how John had gotten all quiet and pensive afterwards. How John had insisted it was nothing Roger had done, that he’d enjoyed it, and it was just that, up until that moment, he’d never actually expected to particularly _enjoy_ his first time. Alphas weren’t known for their gentleness, after all, and for all that John had insisted he didn’t want to be with an alpha, it had always seemed unlikely he wouldn’t end up with one anyway.

Roger, of course, young and feeling like he could take on the world, had taken the opportunity to promise he’d never let an alpha lay hands on John again.

Back in the present, he let himself focus on John once more - the total peacefulness of his expression, the sunlight dappled on his bare skin - and couldn’t help but think how the picture would be all the sweeter for having Brian in it too.

It was funny, Roger thought, how much had changed.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

This, Brian decided, was the weirdest lunch he’d ever had.

It wasn’t an issue with the food. John had thrown together quite a respectable salad that Brian seemed to be the only one actually eating, both Roger and John only picking at theirs and spending more time watching their guest.

Brian still wasn’t entirely sure why he’d been invited over. Sure, the three of them hung out a lot, but they were all going to see eachother later that night for their first proper recording session, and he’d expected John and Roger would want to have some alone time after being cooped up with the rest of the band for so long.

“Weather’s pretty dull today, isn’t it?” Brian commented. He was running out of conversation starters. He’d already complimented the food, asked how the two of them were feeling about heading into the studio later, and asked if they’d done anything fun since leaving the pub. Each time, he’d been met with short replies that gave him little to work with.

“Not the best it’s been,” John agreed, and shot Roger a sharp look, giving the beta’s knee a squeeze where his hand rested on it.

Roger seemed startled for a moment, but then spoke, more carefully than Brian had ever heard him speak before – like he was actually thinking about the words coming out of his mouth, for once.

“I guess you’ve been wondering why we invited you over, right?”

Brian had been - he was very curious indeed. Apparently, Roger was in no rush to sate Brian’s curiosity though, because he took a nice, long pause before continuing.

“We’ve noticed – me and John, that is – we’ve _noticed_ some stuff. And we talked about it already, but it seemed worth getting you in on the conversation because – well – you’re a pretty big part of it all and you should probably weigh in. That’s fair to say, right John?”

John just nodded.

Brian had no idea what that meant, but the room reeked of the omega’s nervousness, and it was making Brian’s stomach sink with anticipation.

“So, what’s up?” he prompted, as Roger took another particularly long pause.

“I guess it’s best just to come out and say it,” Roger sighed, though he still glanced over at John, who was running his knuckles nervously over his lips but stopped for a moment to give Roger another nearly imperceptible nod, “Well, the thing is, me and John talked about it, and we both fancy you a bit, to be completely honest.”

Of all the things Brian had expected, it wasn’t that, and he could feel two pairs of eyes intently watching him for his reaction – Roger staring straight at him and John glancing up from where he was pretending to look down at his salad.

He had no idea how to respond. Brian had spent so much time trying to repress his attraction towards the two men that he’d never even spared a moment to think of how he might go about _expressing_ it.

“We were just wondering if you felt the same way,” John said, soft voice cutting into the silence like butter and seeming to linger in the air even after he’d stopped speaking. He sounded so nervous that Brian wanted to hug him. He wanted to hug Roger too, for that matter.

Through all of the anxious tension in the air, he also felt a burgeoning, ecstatic _happiness._

Roger and John liked him. Roger and John liked him, and it was surely more than just a fleeting crush, because if it was then Brian sincerely doubted they would have gone to all this trouble to tell him. They liked him like he liked them, against all the odds.

The room was silent, and Brian realised he still hadn’t replied.

“Yeah,” Brian croaked – when had his mouth gotten so dry? “I – uh – I do. Feel the same, I mean.” Feeling suddenly emboldened by the not-displeased shock on Roger’s face, and the little smile spreading across John’s, Brian added: “For a while now, actually.”

It hung in the air for a moment.

“What Rog and I got stuck on when we talked about it,” John began, and he had a lovely pinkness to his cheeks now, “Was what exactly we could do about it.”

“Because we don’t want to fuck up what we already have,” Roger said.

“And we don’t want to anyone involved to feel… left out. If we did try to take things a step further,” John added. The way they were almost finishing each other’s sentences made Brian suspect this was something they’d discussed at reasonable length before he entered the picture. Had it been so obvious that he felt the same way, then?

Brian took a moment to think. It seemed worth some careful consideration, after all.

“Does much have to change?” he asked eventually, “We already… I mean, I’m sure you realise we already spend a lot of time together. Especially around certain – uh – certain times. So why change that, if it’s working? Except, we wouldn’t need to- to hold back from going a little further. And if that feels natural, I suppose, we can see where it goes?”

“When you say ‘a little further’, you mean…?” Roger asked.

“Not – er – not anything we’re not all ready for,” Brian explained, a little vaguely, but that was the most detail he could manage with two inquisitive pairs of eyes on him, “Just… little things. Like holding hands, and… Well, like what you two are doing now.” John and Roger both looked down at where John’s hand was rested lightly on Roger’s knee, and Roger’s arm was slung around John’s shoulder – as if they hadn’t even noticed the casual display of intimacy until that moment.

“I like that idea,” John was quick to say, then glanced over at Roger, “What do you think, Rog?”

Roger seemed to hesitate for a moment, before saying: “Yeah, that sounds good. Nothing in public, though. Not yet. Is that okay?”

It hadn’t been Brian’s plan to do anything beyond the privacy of their respective flats, but it still surprised him a little that Roger was apparently concerned enough to specify it. Still, he nodded.

“That’s fair. What about in front of Freddie?” Brian asked.

“Freddie’s fine,” Roger replied.

 And just like that, they had something. Something that it seemed couldn’t really be described as a relationship at this point, but that had tentatively transcended the label of ‘friendship’.

They had something, and although it was all a bit awkward with all feelings now laid on the table and none of them really sure where it would go, Brian felt a little like he must be the luckiest guy on Earth.

How long could that feeling last, he wondered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking. "somedayoneday, I thought you were busy writing camboy smut". Honestly, I've had this chapter written for a couple of days, but I was really struggling to edit it into something I liked, so just taking a bit of time to write other stuff really helped (as well as all of your lovely asks on tumblr, that helped me think about general worldbuilding).
> 
> So thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!
> 
> I'm so grateful for all the comments and kudos this fic has gotten so far, I especially love all the insightful comments y'all leave, they really get me thinking about this 'verse and how to add more depth to it all. See you next chapter, when things will really get interesting ;)


	14. A Few Soft Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they record their first album, the trio slowly get used to sharing little moments of intimacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T
> 
> It's just fuckin' fluff

“Have either of you spoken to Freddie since we came back down to London?” Brian asked.

John glanced up from where he’d been attempting to stack all of their bowls in the too-small cupboard, looking over to the sink where Brian stood. The alpha was doing the dishes, looking a bit silly and entirely domestic in a pair of yellow Marigolds – a sight made all the lovelier by Roger, who was practically bumping hips with Brian, struggling away with a dish cloth and a particularly sudsy bowl. It was already a well-established fact that Roger had few natural housekeeping skills.

“No, haven’t heard from him. Figured we’d see him tonight, and I had other stuff on my mind,” Roger replied with a shrug. John hummed along in agreement.

“I just wonder if he’ll be surprised about all this,” Brian mused, and John smirked a little.

“Oh, I don’t think he will be, Freddie can be quite perceptive,” he replied vaguely. Freddie, of course, wouldn’t be surprised because he was certainly aware of John’s feelings – even if John had skipped over actually stating them in plain English – and Freddie was the one who’d been so insistent that Brian reciprocated them.

“He’ll probably be more focused on the album anyway, you know how he is,” Roger added, handing off another plate to John. As John took it, he saw Roger lean over to Brian out of the corner of his eye.

In all honesty, part of him had been scared – although he did like Brian’s idea – that all of them would be too shy to be the first to initiate. Really, though, John should have known better than to ever presume Roger Taylor to be shy.

Roger leaned over, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Brian’s ear.

“There. Maybe now you can see the dishes properly, you’ll actually rinse the suds off,” he teased, and Brian scoffed, but John could see the way he was smiling.

John found himself smiling too.

\---------------------------------------------

Recording the album was even more exhausting than all the time they’d spent in that godforsaken pub.

True, Roger had the comfort of knowing he could go back to his own flat and all of its home comforts afterwards, but that didn’t do much to alleviate the pressure that Freddie was piling on. Everything had to be _perfect,_ and of course, nobody could forget that they had precious little time to achieve that perfection.

Deep down, Roger knew Freddie was just being fussy because he cared a great deal about their music, and Roger felt the same, of course he did… But redoing a whole section just for one minor imperfection that only Freddie could hear wasn’t his idea of a good time.

Roger was getting a bit of a break now, though. Freddie was in the live room recording vocals while the rest of them watched, Roger lounging back on the sofa and Brian and John leant over the mixing console alongside Trident’s sound technician.

The two of them were alternating between just listening to Freddie, and murmuring between themselves, words Roger couldn’t really make out from his distance. He could see quite clearly, though, the way that John and Brian’s hands were clasped lightly under the console, Brian’s thumb stroking over John’s knuckles absentmindedly as they talked.

And even though Roger was bloody exhausted, and more than a bit frustrated, the sight of that– the first little moment of intimacy he’d witnessed between John and Brian since their lunchtime conversation – soothed something in his chest.

He smiled and let himself get lost in Freddie’s voice as it came in loud and glorious over the speakers.

\------------------------------------------------------

“That’s a hundred and fifty quid thanks, Bri.”

Roger’s voice sounded ridiculously smug, and with good reason. They could all clearly see the meagre stack of money next to Brian’s eight mortgaged properties – two fifties, a twenty, and seven ones in total.

Monopoly had sounded a good idea five hours ago. The three of them had convened at Roger and John’s bedsit just to spend some time together in between hectic recording sessions, and Brian hadn’t played Monopoly in a good long while, so he’d thought it would be quite a fun activity.

It turned out, Roger’s competitivity in Scrabble paled compared to his competitivity in Monopoly.

“You could still mortgage the blues,” John pointed out, helpful but also very much not helpful at all. The blues were all Brian had left.

“I think I’m out,” he sighed.

“There’s always the chance you’ll land on Free Parking next round,” John said. He sounded awfully positive, considering he was only a few turns away from being in the same spot as Brian. Roger had a dozen hotels on the board, while Brian and John had struggled to keep hold of three little green houses between them.

“You’re not out ‘til you’ve got nothing left,” Roger pointed out, already reaching over to mortgage some of Brian’s properties for him. Perhaps having Roger as banker hadn’t been a good idea.

“Roger doesn’t win very often, so he likes to finish the game off properly when he does,” John said quietly, but apparently not quietly enough.

“Oi, none of that. Brian, pay up,” Roger shot back, and even though he’d already lost rather horribly, Brian found he was smiling a bit as he handed over the cash from his freshly mortgaged property. Roger seemed oblivious to how endearing his competitivity was: the fire in his eyes and the way he was so easily provoked by the slightest comment, practically vibrating in his seat as he waited to properly cinch the victory. John seemed to see things in the same light as Brian because – when he glanced over – Brian could see that John wore the same fond smile on his face.

Enamoured, the both of them.

It only took about ten more turns for Roger to win properly, and he celebrated by using his little silver car to knock Brian’s dog and John’s boot onto the floor, wishing them an utterly unconvincing ‘better luck next time’. His showboating only ended when he decided he had to take a piss, leaving Brian and John clearing up the table.

 “Shit, I should be getting home,” Brian muttered after a glance at his watch, and John glanced up from where he was carefully putting the Monopoly money and cards back in their proper places.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Nearly one in the morning.”

John’s eyebrows shot up, and he seemed on the verge of saying something before he pressed his lips together in a thin, thoughtful line.

“That’s awfully late,” John said eventually, hesitating for another moment before adding: “Would you like to spend the night here?” Apparently, he saw Brian’s gaze flick to the sofa, mentally trying to figure out just how much of a squeeze that would be, because John continued. “In the bed, I mean. With me and Rog. He wouldn’t- I know he wouldn’t want you going home so late either.”

Speak of the devil.

“What’s this?” Roger asked, as he stepped out of the bathroom and wandered back over to where John and Brian were sat.

“I said Brian could stay the night, since it’s pretty late,” John replied, “That’s fine, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Roger replied, seeming not at all concerned about the idea until a realisation apparently struck him, “Wait, does that mean I have to wear pyjamas?”

“You’ll survive,” John huffed, rolling his eyes and giving Roger a playful slap on the shoulder, softening when the blond leaned closer and pecked him on the lips.

“I’ll go fish ‘em out of the closet,” Roger said, then glanced over to Brian, “I’ll leave John here to figure out what the hell _you’re_ going to wear, though.”

Ah. Yes, there was that.

Well, Brian thought, John was a good problem-solver. He’d figure something out.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Stepping out of the bathroom quietly, John took in the sight of the other two stood by the bed before they noticed him.

To the left, there was Roger, looking lovely and cosy in the pyjamas John had got for him last Christmas, that Roger only ever stooped to wearing when it was cold enough for ice to form. Apparently, pyjamas weren’t very rock n’ roll, and John’s body heat was more than enough to keep Roger warm. Still, John thought he looked sweet in the blue plaid felt.

Then, to the right, there was Brian, who was borrowing a spare set of John’s pyjamas. Of course, John had been under no illusion that the fit would be perfect, but he hadn’t quite expected the pyjamas to come out so short on Brian – the sleeves ending almost mid-wrist and the legs hanging around his ankles.

John had to try very hard not to laugh, but Roger was making no such effort. Brian, at least, seemed to see the humour in the situation. He’d even thanked John for the pyjamas when he first put them on, as if the terrible fit was no issue at all. Brian was just sweet that way.

“Shame you didn’t bring your camera along, Bri, we could’ve got some photos,” Roger was saying, and John decided it was best _not_ to point out that he actually owned a camera too – though it was admittedly a bit less nice than Brian’s.

“An awful shame. But at least I’ve got those pictures of you asleep in the studio yesterday,” Brian teased back.

“I was thinking with my eyes closed!”

“Well that certainly explains the drooling,” Brian chuckled. Roger punched his shoulder gently.

“You’ll have to get me copies of those,” John cut in, and the two of them seemed a little surprised to see him standing there, having finished getting changed in the bathroom. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the light pink dusted over Brian’s cheeks.

“Oh, trust me, I’ll be making lots of copies,” Brian said, after a brief pause to gather himself, “You look nice.”

“He gets bloody warm in those, like a hot water bottle,” Roger said, stepping over and pecking John on the lips. They hadn’t really gone further than brief kisses in front of Brian, both of them a little conscious of making the older man feel left out.

“I bet. How do you want me to…?” Brian asked, gesturing to the bed. It was a double, but might be a bit of a squeeze for three people. Still, there was no question in John’s mind of where Brian should go.

“In the middle,” he said, playfully adding, “Roger doesn’t have to complain about me being a hot water bottle then.”

“Nothing wrong with a hot water bottle,” Roger purred, arms slipping around John’s waist and kissing him again. It was typical Roger, he was very kiss-happy right before bed – usually it led to something more than they could do with Brian there. “But yeah, you should go in the middle, Bri, or else me and John would have to fight over you.”

“I can’t picture that,” Brian chuckled, climbing onto the bed. He still looked quite outrageous in the too-small pyjamas, a fact that was only accentuated when he sat down and the trousers hitched up to rest midway down his calves.

After that, Roger was the first to climb in beside Brian, sticking to his usual side of the bed and dropping a kiss to Brian’s cheek. He was saying something to the alpha, but John wasn’t really listening, too caught up in his own thoughts.

He was quite conscious of the fact that he’d never shared a bed with anybody but Roger. Really, it wasn’t sharing a bed he was so nervous about. Sharing a bed was easy, it was just sleeping. Sharing a bed here was representative of something bigger, which John was fully aware was hardly scheduled in yet, but his mind still drifted to it occasionally and whenever it did, there was the looming reminder of his own inexperience. Roger had been with other people. Brian had been with other people. John hadn’t.

He wasn’t quite aware of how much his mind had been running off until he felt a hand grasp his gently, and looked down to see Brian, looking just a touch concerned.

“Need a hand?” he asked, and John nodded, keeping hold of Brian’s hand as he climbed into the bed beside him – sticking to his usual side, next to the wall. Really, despite all his overthinking, cuddling up to Brian’s side felt like the most natural thing in the world, especially when he could reach over to interlock his fingers with Roger’s.

Sure, it was quite different to sleeping beside Roger. Brian’s scent was stronger – John didn’t have to nuzzle close to his neck to catch it, though the temptation was still there – and Brian was a good few inches taller. Still, he was warm, just like Roger, and he dropped a kiss to the top of John’s head just like Roger did, and John went from feeling nervous to utterly content impossibly quickly. There was just something about the whole set-up that made him feel… at home.

“You better not hog the blankets,” Roger said, his voice sounding distant as John started to doze off, awake just long enough to feel Brian’s arm slip around his waist, hand resting gently at the small of his back.

Then, the world was quiet, and John was warm, and happy, and safe, curled up with the man he loved, and the man he might well love someday soon.

\-----------------------------------------

In the end, the first kiss happened almost by accident.

Roger woke up to the familiar warmth of somebody curled close to him, and a gentle voice wishing him a good morning. He was too groggy to process the fact that the voice was a little different to how it usually sounded though, just tipping his head up to do what he did every morning and kiss John, soft and slow.

It was about five seconds in that Roger woke up enough to realise how strangely different this all felt, and another second or two after that when Roger remembered who he’d fallen asleep next to the previous night.

In that time, Brian’s hand had slipped up to cup the back of Roger’s neck, thumb stroking over the soft, short hairs at the nape and making it feel like fucking agony to break the kiss, but Roger felt he had to. It wasn’t fair on John, to do this without him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled when he pulled back too quickly for it to seem natural, “Thought you were John. That’s – er – that’s not to say it wasn’t nice but, well, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Brian replied, looking pleasantly dazed for a moment before seeming to pull himself together a bit. His eyes still kept flicking back to Roger’s lips, though.

Initially, Roger had suspected John was already up and off making tea or something like he usually did, but a glance over to Brian’s other side proved that assumption wrong. John looked fast asleep still, his face buried into the crook of Brian’s neck and the rest of him pressed as close to Brian as humanly possible. Roger felt his heart melt a bit.

“Usually he’s up first,” he murmured, propping himself up on an elbow and reaching over to gently stroke John’s cheek, “I guess losing Monopoly that badly must be pretty exhausting.”

He didn’t need to look to know that Brian was rolling his eyes, even though the older man chuckled a bit too.

“It’s – um – it’s supposed to be relaxing. The scent,” Brian mumbled after a moment, and it only took Roger a second to cotton on. Whenever John wanted to scent Roger, he went straight for the neck, so of course in the position he was in, John was no-doubt getting the full force of whatever pheromones Brian was putting out. It felt like something that should have made Roger jealous, but it didn’t. He was happy to see John look so peaceful, and happy to see Brian look so warmly at both of them, and happy to know how Brian’s lips felt against his own.

“Should we wake him up? It’s nearly ten,” Brian asked, and Roger was quick to shake his head.

“No, let him sleep. God knows he needs it,” he replied, giving one last stroke of John’s cheek before pulling his hand back, and turning his attention to Brian again.

“So… If John’s okay with it when he wakes up, do you reckon I could get another kiss?”

A smile spread across Brian’s face, and he looked so immeasurably fond that Roger could feel his own cheeks heat a bit.

“You can have as many as you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Once again, I reaaaalllly wasn't expecting to post this, but then it just happened so here we are.
> 
> Comments and kudos are hugely appreciated as always, and thanks for all the lovely asks on tumblr too!!


	15. Feels So Romantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The developing relationship, mostly from John's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T

“So, have you all shagged yet?”

Less than a minute into conversation with Freddie, and John’s cheeks were already burning as he shook his head emphatically, and Freddie laughed.

John had missed this. During the recording of the album, Freddie had been rather too caught up to just sit down with John and have a chat about things, and John understood that, but at the same time he’d been itching to speak to Freddie about what was happening with Brian. For the first time in his life, he had a confidante with whom he could talk about these things – all of the relationship stuff that warranted talking about, but which could be a little awkward to discuss with Roger (or Brian, now) right off the bat – and John wanted to take full advantage of that.

“Go on, I promise I’ll stop teasing. Tell me what happened. I’ve been dying to find out, you know, since I saw the three of you getting all touchy feely in the studio,” Freddie continued, turning to sit cross-legged on the sofa, facing John properly. They were at Freddie’s flat, naturally, the location of most of their chats.

John inhaled deeply. Even though he liked doing this, _chose_ to come and talk to Freddie, he always felt a bit of a nervous thrum before he actually started speaking. He exhaled, relaxing a little, and began.

“Well, I talked to Rog after we talked about it all. And he felt the same, so we had Bri over for lunch and we – well – Roger told him,” John summarised succinctly. Freddie made a little ‘and then?’ gesture with his hand, and John smirked. He liked that about Freddie – he didn’t ever seem like he was just pretending to listen when John confided in him, and even if Freddie’s nature as a beta made it hard for him to give specialised advice, he certainly tried his best.

“You were right,” John continued, unable to hide the smile from his face, “Brian said he was interested in us too. So we – er – well, none of us wanted to jump in too quickly, you know? So Brian said we should just take it slow and see what feels natural.”

“I wish Bri was so much of a gentleman when I’m trying to tell him what bloody sound I want from him in the studio,” Freddie mused, the jibe more light-hearted than malicious. “So how far have things gone?”

“Well, a couple of nights ago, he slept over at our place. Just sleeping, mind, although… Well, the whole flat still smells of him a bit. Alphas are just like that,” John said. He didn’t mind the way Brian’s scent lingered, honestly; he quite liked it. “Oh, and Roger’s kissed him. Twice, now.”

“But you haven’t?” asked Freddie. John shook his head. “Don’t you want to?”

John bounced his leg a little, gaze flicking away from the older man.

“No, I do. It just hasn’t… It hasn’t really happened yet, that’s all. There hasn’t been a moment where it felt like the obvious thing to do,” John demurred, “I can’t really think how it works, honestly. I’ve only kissed somebody for the first time once, and that was Roger and it just- it just _happened._ It felt like the only thing I could do.”

“And Roger’s really the only person you’ve-“

John nodded quickly.

“Well, was it a big moment when Roger kissed him?” Freddie asked.

“I’m not sure, I was sleeping the first time.”

“Honestly, Deacy, I think Brian will wait forever if you leave it up to him. You should just kiss him, you don’t need a special reason. It’s not like you only kiss Roger on special occasions,” Freddie said, and John had to admit he had a point, even if he didn’t like it.

Kissing Roger was easy, he’d been doing it since he was seventeen and it was hard to feel vulnerable with Roger when the beta had been by his side through so much and never judged, never done anything to make John feel embarrassed for how he showed his affection. While John was certain Brian would be just the same, they didn’t have enough experiences together to back up that assumption, and he couldn’t bear the thought of kissing Brian and it being anything less than fully reciprocated by the alpha.

John was sure he’d been quiet for a while, but Freddie didn’t push him to speak.

“I really like Brian,” John began, voice measured and slow, “But I never thought I’d be with anyone but Roger. Until… very recently, I didn’t think I’d ever have to think about anything like this. And then on top of all of that, he’s an alpha.”

“Is that really such a big thing? That he’s an alpha?” Freddie asked, and John felt a fleeting moment of jealousy towards betas and all the naivety they were afforded.

“Yes, it is.”

“Because the two of you could be mated?”

“Partly, yes, but also there’s… Not all the time, but sometimes, it’s harder to feel completely in _control_ of myself when I’m with Brian,” John murmured, holding off on the details and hoping they wouldn’t be needed. Freddie was smart, and he’d been there during the Curry Incident last year, he could extrapolate.

“But you know Brian would never take advantage of that,” Freddie pointed out, and John nodded.

“I do. I guess there’s just a part of my brain that needs a bit more time to be convinced, maybe,” he said, “But I do want to kiss him… I want to do all sorts with him, honestly.”

Freddie cracked a smile at that, and John couldn’t help smiling a little too.

“Kiss him when you feel like it, Deacy. I promise, you don’t have the slightest reason to worry that Brian won’t be absolutely thrilled about it,” Freddie assured, “Now, let’s hear more about all those other things you say you want to do with him…”

John laughed properly then, tossing one of Freddie’s garish cushions at him.

“Arsehole,” he said, and wondered how he’d survived so long without Freddie around.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Brian could get used to waking up like this.

As he opened his eyes groggily, he felt the not-yet familiar feeling of John’s face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, close enough that he could feel the curve of John’s lips against his skin. They weren’t even in bed – and it wasn’t even night-time, actually. Brian and John had just nodded off on the sofa, and a glance beyond John told him that Roger was still awake, scribbling away at an assignment he’d left to the last minute.

“How’s it going?” Brian asked softly, slipping an arm around John’s waist.

“It’ll definitely be finished,” Roger mumbled, “I’m just not sure it’ll be any _good_.”

Brian winced a little at that. He felt quite bad knowing that their budding new relationship was probably at least partly to blame for Roger not having done the assignment sooner. Roger seemed to notice that, though.

“Don’t worry, Bri, it’s not even a full ten percent of the grade, I can make it up easy. I just need to actually submit the bloody thing, or it automatically caps my overall grade at forty,” he said, and Brian felt a little better. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he noticed Roger hadn’t looked down at his essay, gaze still fixed on Brian and John.

“He really likes that, doesn’t he?” Roger commented, nodding to where John was still nuzzled against Brian’s neck, “He always said he hated how alphas smell, so I guess you’re a special case.” He paused, gaze flicking back to Brian, “Don’t get all big-headed about it, though.”

“I’ll try not to,” Brian chuckled, “Do you want me to head home? It’s getting late, you probably need to focus…”

“No, stay. You two can go to bed, I’ll join you when I’m finished here,” Roger replied, sounding so nonchalant about the whole thing, “Gives me something extra to look forward to when I finish this bloody thing, that way.”

“Did you remember the references?”

John’s voice startled Brian a little, coming so close to his ear and so unexpected. How long had John been awake, he wondered? Probably not very; his voice sounded thick with sleepiness still.

“How did you-“ Roger started.

“You always forget the bloody references,” John murmured, peeling himself away from Brian and shifting over to the side of the sofa where Roger was. Brian missed the warmth a little, but the scent of John’s contentedness in the air was enough to mitigate that.

He watched as John pressed a kiss to Roger’s cheek, and then another to his lips, and murmured something to him that Brian couldn’t quite hear, but that made Roger smile.

“Okay, okay,” Roger murmured, “You go to bed. You look like you’re about to drop off again. Go have a good sniff of whatever it is about Brian’s neck that smells so bloody good.” That made Brian smirk a little – and he wondered if perhaps Roger was right, perhaps he was starting to get big-headed about it.

“You’re such a git sometimes,” John huffed, and kissed Roger again. The two of them made such a lovely picture, Brian couldn’t help but think, though watching them was also a reminder of just how badly he wanted to kiss John himself.

Patience was a virtue, though, and far greater than Brian’s desire to kiss John was his desire not to push the younger man into something his wasn’t ready for yet. And as John stood up, stretching and yawning, and sleepily deciding he would get changed in the bathroom first, Brian was rather confident in the belief that John could keep him waiting forever, and it wouldn’t do much to lessen his feelings.

Fortunately, after the last time, Brian had had the forethought to stash a spare set of pyjamas in Roger and John’s wardrobe, and so he felt far less ridiculous this time as he climbed into bed with John.

John really did suit pyjamas. He looked like he could barely keep his eyes open as he shuffled closer to Brian, giving him a sleepy smile, and Brian was pretty sure John was going to settle is head down on the pillow, but the younger man surprised him.

John leaned closer, and pressed his lips to Brian’s, the kiss soft, and chaste, and over before Brian could really get past his surprise.

“Night, Bri,” John said as he pulled back, a lovely pink on his cheeks that Brian was sure was mirrored on his own.

And then John was settling down beside him again, and Brian wondered for the thousandth time how he’d gotten so lucky.

\----------------------------------------------------------

Logically, John had known his heat was coming. It was marked on the calendar - six neat and discreetly circled dates – but it still shocked him somehow to wake up in the morning, curled up between Brian and Roger, and with the overwhelming urge to grab every blanket in the flat and pile them all onto the bed.

He didn’t want to leave the warmth of his bed. He was just going to go back to sleep – because it was six in the bloody morning – and ignore it, and deal with it in a few hours.

John’s resolve lasted all of about five minutes and then he found himself crawling out of bed and going to the wardrobe. It was a bit of a stretch to reach up to the top shelf and gather up all of the spare blankets and pillows into his arms, but John was practised by now.

Roger was the first to wake up – and it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d woken up to John covering all the space around him with excess pillows. It only seemed to take him half a second to process the situation, before he was rolling out of bed and stepping over to press a kiss to John’s cheek.

“Breakfast in bed?” Roger asked. That was their routine for when this started. Breakfast in bed meant he could feel warm and safe pressed up close to Roger as they ate, and it also mitigated a bit of John’s general glumness at the reminder of what was fast approaching. John nodded, and Roger wandered over to the kitchenette.

“You know, if you don’t want him here, I’ll ask him to go. You know he wouldn’t take it badly,” Roger said so casually, and John loved him. He really loved Roger, because Roger knew what was on his mind even when John didn’t say it, even when Roger was a beta and didn’t naturally understand all the nuances of these things.

“I think- I think it’s fine for now,” John decided after a moment. Nesting was usually an indicator that his heat was a few days away yet, they still had time. Besides, he would have felt bad, kicking Brian out so early, without even having any breakfast.

He carefully positioned another pillow on the bed.

It was only when John settled back into the bed – satisfied with the nest he’d made – that Brian finally woke up. He seemed a little confused at first by all of the pillows and blankets that hadn’t been there last night, and John glanced away – he didn’t want to see that realisation dawning on Brian’s face. He didn’t want this to be happening so soon. Or at all, actually.

“Morning,” Brian mumbled after a moment, shifting to sit up beside John, and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. It was nice, John wished he was in the right state of mind to fully appreciate it.

“Do you like beans on toast, Bri?” Roger called over from the kitchenette, a question which John knew was redundant, because it was the only breakfast food Roger could make that would turn out edible. He told Brian as much, and it made the alpha chuckle a little. Part of John preened, that he had impressed Brian.

“That sounds good, Rog, you need any help?” Brian called back, and John found himself instinctively tighten his grip on Brian’s hand. He hadn’t even realised they were holding hands, and he quickly tried to figure out who had initiated that – surely he wasn’t so far gone that his body was acting with his mind realising? That usually came far later.

“I’m good, nearly done,” Roger replied, and John relaxed a little. He kept his fingers interlocked with Brian’s, even though he still wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten there, and thrilled a little when Brian leaned over and let his lips brush over John’s in a light, barely-there kiss. He’d almost forgotten about that – about taking Freddie’s advice and just kissing Brian last night, when it had felt right.

“I quite like this,” Brian said, voice low and soft as he nodded to the pillows and blankets piled up around them, “It’s cosy.”

The words shouldn’t have made John so happy, but they did. In lieu of a response – and because he was sure the words would catch in his throat – he leaned close and kissed Brian again.

“I could get used to seeing this,” Roger’s voice said from behind them, and John turned to see the beta carrying two trays precariously and smirking down at them, “I don’t want to hear any rude comments about my cooking skills after this.”

As he passed the trays down to them, Roger pressed a quick kiss to John’s lips, and then to Brian’s, before heading back to grab his own tray.

“Beans on toast à la Roger,” John said, grabbing his fork, “He thinks I don’t know his secret is just adding a bit of hot sauce.”

“Heard that!” Roger called.

“I wasn’t trying to be quiet,” John shot back, laughing as Roger stuck his tongue out on his way back over, climbing back into bed alongside John and Brian.

“It definitely adds something,” Brian remarked, and John couldn’t dispute that. He liked Roger’s beans on toast just as much as he liked ribbing on the beta a bit for his “secret” recipe.

It was only when all of their plates were cleared that the topic of his upcoming heat crossed John’s mind again – a credit to how distracting Roger and Brian were – and even then, it was only because Brian brought it up. Not directly, mind, but John could guess what thought process was underlying Brian’s words.

“Just – er – just let me know if you want me to head off, okay?” Brian said, addressing both of them, “I don’t want to outstay my welcome. But if you do want me to stay around today, just to do… I don’t know, whatever you like, really, I can.”

John found himself turning to Roger – who was looking a bit panicked, as if he’d only just remembered about the essay – before quickly looking back at Brian. It was a choice for him to make, John reminded himself, even if some part of him wasn’t so fond of being a decision-maker. And it _would_ be nice to have Brian there, given that Roger still had classes to attend after handing in his essay, and John wanted a bit of company – especially at this time.

“I’d… I think I’d like you to stay, if that’s okay,” John said softly, “I need to pick some things up too, you could come shopping with me?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Brian replied, and the anxious thrum in John’s chest immediately settled.

For a moment, the thought of what was coming didn’t cast such a dark shadow on John’s mood, and he found himself just smiling. A day with Brian, and then another night curled up with him and Roger could certainly make up for the less-than-pleasant days that were on the horizon.

Even if it didn’t, John was happy enough just to see Brian and Roger smiling along with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was quick, wow. I haven't even finished replying to the comments from last chapter!!
> 
> Thanks for reading!! I hope you liked this! I wanted to do just a bit more developing relationship fluff before delving into the drama, because gdi these boys deserve some happy times. As always, comments and kudos make my day and make me smile, so please leave them if you have a moment <3 Also, a big thanks for all the support so far! I never though this fic would get as popular as DLYH, because the tropes are far more niche, but you guys have really wowed me with your enthusiasm for some good old fashioned A/B/O!!


	16. Sweat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heats are unpleasant, but unavoidable. John really wishes this one could have waited a bit, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated: E (skip the whole first section if you want to skip smut, tbh)

John let out a long, low groan as Roger nudged him under the spray of the shower, already missing the comforting softness of the bed. Roger had been pretty insistent that a shower was necessary, though, and John could reluctantly agree that it probably was a good idea.

Day five of his heat was just a slog, both of them aware that the end was close but not quite here yet. John’s skin still felt tingly and oversensitive, but the haze in his brain was mostly cleared, and he could usually manage an hour or even two between orgasms without getting too frustrated. ‘Usually’ being the operative word there.

It was only about ten minutes since he’d been split open on Roger’s fingers, shuddering through his second orgasm of the morning, and John already couldn’t think straight for how much he wanted something inside him again.

Trying to ignore that wasn’t working very well.

“C’mere,” Roger mumbled, stepping under the spray with John, a loofah in one hand. He’d lathered it up with that nice soap Brian always put in his little gift packages – the scentless stuff, because anything perfumed was liable to give John a migraine when he was in heat and everything smelled ten times more intense than usual.

Roger looked exhausted, though. He had a soft little smile on his face as he gently rubbed John down with the loofah – which provoked all sorts of nice, shivery sensations as it slid over his too-sensitive skin – but Roger looked about ready to fall asleep, and John felt awful to be keeping him from that. Frustratingly, he also felt like he’d die if Roger wasn’t touching him, and that latter emotion was rather more prominent than his pity right now.

As Roger cleaned his back, John took the opportunity to press even closer to the blond, close enough that he could press their lips together in a sloppy, needy kiss. Roger kissed him back far more gently, his free hand stroking along the side of John’s neck and sending a thrum of warmth through John that made him moan, voice hoarse from the activities of the past few days.

“Is getting you clean a lost cause?” Roger teased as he broke the kiss, though the words were devoid of any actual judgement, “You’re not usually like this on the last day.”

John knew he wasn’t.

“Did something change?” Roger asked.

Something had changed, but John wasn’t really in the mood to talk about it. He was more in the mood to cant his hips forward and grind his cock against Roger’s thigh until Roger got the message that John _needed_ him.

Evidently, he didn’t even need to be that forward for Roger to get the hint. There was a wet sound as the loofah hit the floor of the shower, and then Roger’s soapy hand was sliding down John’s back to the cleft of his arse. Roger – wonderful, kind, perfect Roger – didn’t waste time teasing, just slid three fingers into where John was wet and aching, and John practically sobbed at the sensation of it.

That was another strange thing about the last day of heat. John _knew_ he was sore. He ached all over, but it was as if some thin, hazy barrier was stopping him from actually feeling the full force of it. So, despite the muted soreness, Roger’s fingers still felt outrageously good inside of him, pumping in and out slowly and making John’s knees feel weak as he panted out a few hoarse moans against Roger’s shoulder.

It didn’t take very long. John felt the white-hot pull of orgasm after only a couple of minutes, and he fell into it eagerly, keening as he spilled over Roger’s hip, and then sagged against him.

Roger was stronger than most people would give him credit for – strong enough to keep John upright as he finished gently scrubbing him down, and strong enough to take most of John’s weight as he guided him back to the bed after towelling him dry.

John was more than happy to curl back up into the swathes of blankets, feeling rather drowsy now. Just a bit longer, he knew, and the heat would be over properly – and even though that meant he’d be hit with all the accumulated aches and soreness from the past few days, and that sudden rush of emotion that always came in the aftermath, John was looking forward to it. After all, once his heat was over, he knew Roger would finally be afforded a bit of a break.

“Thank you,” John murmured when Roger climbed into the bed with him, shuffling over to cuddle up to the blond.

“How’re you feeling?” Roger asked, getting a finger under John’s chin to tip his head up and make John look at him before John could bury his face against Roger’s neck, “There’s nothing… wrong, right? Apart from the usual, I mean.” It surprised John a little to see just how much worry showed in Roger’s expression, but then – when he actually thought about it – it made sense. John’s heats had always been quite reliably regular, and followed a predictable routine. Of course, by now Roger was as familiar with that routine as John, and even a little deviation like ‘feeling a bit hornier than usual on day five’ was enough to raise concerns when Roger didn’t know _why_ it was happening.

“I’m fine, Rog,” John assured him, brushing his lips against Roger’s in a light kiss, “It’s probably from spending a bit more time with Brian, that’s all. Throwing things a bit off-kilter, but I’m fine.”

Honestly, he’d suspected before the heat started that spending so much time with Brian – namely, so much time _scenting_ Brian – would have some impact on how his heat played out, but he hadn’t wanted to mention it. He’d been a little worried that it would upset Roger – being reminded of that part of Brian and John’s lives he couldn’t really share in.

Roger didn’t seem to mind much though.

“Oh. That’s a relief. I thought it might be something more serious,” Roger said, tucking a lock of John’s wet hair behind his ear, adding with a sigh, “I can’t wait to see him tomorrow. Hadn’t realised I was getting so used to having him around ‘til… Well, you know.”

“I know,” John replied, “I miss him a bit too.”

They lapsed into quiet after that, Roger dropping off to sleep pretty quickly – he really had looked awfully tired – and John watching him lazily.

He wondered what would happen if – when – Brian was there for his heats. He wouldn’t begrudge Roger wanted to skip the whole event, in that case; John knew a little of how much pressure it put on the beta, even if Roger tried to hide it. And besides, Roger surely didn’t want to sit through those first two days, when neither John nor Brian would be particularly social or coherent.

Still, John couldn’t help but think that he’d miss Roger’s particular way of taking care of him when he wasn’t feeling quite himself. He’d miss the way Roger still touched him quite gently during heat, because he couldn’t bring himself to be as rough as an alpha would be.

He’d miss it, if things panned out that way, but whether they did or not was a conversation for another day. For now, he was just happy to watch Roger sleep, and think about all the things he wanted to talk to Brian about tomorrow.

\----------------------------------------------

Brian had missed John and Roger more than he’d expected.

It wasn’t as if he’d had nothing to pass the time – he and Freddie were knee-deep in planning for their upcoming tour, due to start just six days after John’s heat ended, and Roger had called him a few times during the first two days just to chat. Really, talking to Roger over the phone had only made Brian miss them both more. He wanted to make sure the two of them were okay – to see for himself that they were – and to hold them both in his arms and catch them up on everything he and Freddie had organised so far.

More than almost anything, he was looking forward to playing some music with the whole band together, out of the studio. Playing in the studio was fine, but it lacked the electric atmosphere of being on stage, or the relaxed atmosphere of their rehearsal space, and it was a good long while since they’d played outside of the studio.

Today wasn’t for playing music, though. It was the first day after John’s heat, and Brian knew Roger would be too tired to do much, and John would be craving affection and distractions from the tide of emotions that tended to hit him in the aftermath.

Of course, Brian was happy to help. Perhaps too happy to help… Glancing down at the paper bag in his arms, he wondered if he’d gone overboard by bringing gifts along. It hadn’t really been a conscious decision to bring more than just a few tupperwares of food – both his common sense and his wallet had protested the extra purchases – but he hadn’t seen Roger and John in five full days and he wanted to show them just how much he’d missed them, and how much he cared.

Brian was fully aware that that was a bit of an alpha thing, but it seemed harmless enough, unlike some other instincts.

When he knocked on the door, it was John who answered. The younger man had a light flush to his cheeks, a bottle of air freshener in one hand, and he beamed when he saw Brian – a lovely smile, apparently untainted by any of the melancholy that John was prone to on this day.

“You’ve got good timing, I just finished cleaning the place,” John said, stepping closer to press a quick kiss to Brian’s lips before moving aside to let him into the flat.

“And how do you feel?” Brian asked, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up. He could see out of the corner of his eye John looking curiously at the paper bag.

“Not bad, actually. A bit tired. Not as tired as Roger, though, he went back to bed right after I changed the sheets,” John replied, and sure enough as they stepped further into the flat, there was Roger. Only a sliver of his face was visible, most of it tucked under the duvet or covered by an unruly mess of blond hair, but it was enough for Brian to see the dark circles under his eyes.

Glancing over to John, his happy expression had been replaced by one of barely-hidden guilt. Brian reached over in the space between them, gently taking John’s hand in his own.

“I’m sure he’ll be feeling fine in a few hours,” Brian said gently, and John nodded, still looking at Roger as he spoke.

“I was thinking we could talk through the tour details, but I don’t want to do that without Roger…”

“We can wait,” Brian replied, “I brought some vegetarian lasagne to heat up, if you want something to eat?”

“That sounds good,” John murmured, squeezing Brian’s hand and then looking up at him with a soft smile, mood seeming to shift back to a positive one.

Brian smiled back, and felt the protective worry that had been simmering in his chest ease a little.

\--------------------------------------

It didn’t escape Roger’s notice that Brian had been very careful to buy exactly the same amount of gifts for John and Roger. Not just that, but every gift for one of them would be matched with a gift of approximately equal value for the other.

He thought it was ridiculously sweet, how much thought Brian put into it all. Most of John’s gifts seemed to be food – Roger may have mentioned on more than one occasion how John barely ate during his heats – while Roger’s gifts were more varied: warm socks, shampoo, fancy coffee, amongst other things.

Still, while most of the other gifts had been distributed over the course of the day, it hadn’t escaped Roger’s attention that there was one item still sat in the paper bag, which Brian didn’t seem to be bringing out, even though afternoon had long since turned to evening.

Of course, Roger couldn’t resist asking, even though it was a little cheeky.

“So, what’s left in the bag, Bri?”

Brian startled a little, which Roger felt because he was currently half-draped over the alpha on the sofa, with John on his other side. He quite liked being sandwiched between the two of them.

“Oh – er – nothing, really,” Brian replied, “It’s not- I think perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for a gift. It was a bit of a spur of the moment thing, the lady in the shop was really pushing it when she realised I wasn’t just shopping for a friend.”

That only served to make Roger more curious, and also a little bemused at Brian’s sudden shyness.

John – his occasional ally in mischief – piped up from Roger’s other side:

“It looks like a bottle of something.”

“Alcohol?” Roger asked, and John made a little ‘hmm’ sound.

“No, it’s the wrong shape,” he replied, glancing over to Brian, “Is it okay if I take it out?”

“Well, you might as well have it, I don’t really have any use for it,” Brian conceded after a moment, but he still looked embarrassed, and Roger’s curiosity was fully peaked, “Just don’t take it the wrong way, I’m not suggesting anything, it was honestly just-“

“ _Tahitian Orchid Sensuous Massage Oil,”_ Roger read aloud from the bottle in John’s hand, then turned back to Brian with a waggle of his eyebrows, “Sensuous, huh? Don’t know why you thought we might get the wrong impression about _that,_ Bri.” In his peripheral vision, he saw John snigger, and then clamp a hand over his mouth.

“Like I said, the saleswoman-“ Brian began, and he looked so flustered that Roger thought he should probably be put out of his misery.

“I like it, Bri. I think it’s a good gift. John loves giving shoulder rubs.”

“ _You_ love _getting_ shoulder rubs, there’s a difference,” John pointed out, but of course, Roger knew the truth. John loved giving him shoulder rubs, why else would he be so good at them?

“I’m glad you like it,” Brian sighed, and he really did sound quite relieved, “I was thinking, when we start this tour, it’ll probably come in handy.”

It was an artful change of topic on Brian’s part, one which quickly led to a rather in-depth discussion of the technicalities of the upcoming tour. Roger didn’t mind that, really, he was just as excited for the tour as the others, and wanted to talk about it.

Still, he was a little disappointed to miss the opportunity to let Brian know he would be more than welcome to try the massage oil with them, as far as Roger was concerned.

That conversation would have to be saved for later, it seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm writing an abo fic, the smuttiest trope, and only three chapters so far have actually been E-rated! Well, this makes four. Thanks for reading! It was fun writing a bit of the heat from John's perspective.
> 
> I'm contemplating the future of this fic a bit, as I have lots of ideas but most of them would require some substantial time skips and stuff if I want to keep it a cohesive fic. I'm a bit tempted to do what I did with DLYH and pick an appropriate ending then continue by making a series out of it. How would y'all feel about that? The other fics in the series would probably be multi-chapter rather than just short one-shots, because there are a few specific 'eras' I want to cover.
> 
> Even if you don't have an opinion, comments and kudos are still greatly appreciated, of course!!


	17. On Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some snippets from Queen's first tour!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M

“Oh fuck, do that again.”

“What, this?” John asked, voice tinged with false innocence as he dug his thumbs into the same knot of muscles in Roger’s back, and Roger melted into the mattress with a low groan. John really was too good at this, and the oil certainly made it that much better – Roger wasn’t sure if he wanted to fall asleep, or roll over and fuck John ‘til he was just as spaced out as Roger felt.

Another confident kneading motion from John’s hands had Roger’s thoughts spooling out of focus, and a long moan spilling from his lips.

This was exactly what Roger needed. In just four days of touring, they’d played four shows in three different countries – admittedly, their current hotel in Luxembourg had only been a few hours’ drive from the German venue – and while Roger was a self-professed fun-lover, even he had his limits. The day after their fourth show, he’d been pretty content with the idea of just lying in bed, but the others had wanted to see Luxembourg so he’d been dragged out with them to do tourist stuff. It was worth it, though, to have John’s clever hands rubbing all of the tension out of his back now.

“Did you fall asleep?” John asked softly, and Roger made a wordless noise to indicate he was still very much awake and John should keep going. John’s responding laugh made him smile into the pillow. “Don’t think for a second I’m not expecting a massage too,” John warned, voice suddenly very close to Roger’s ear, nudging Roger a little away from ‘sleepy’ and towards ‘horny’.

“Y’can’t make me,” Roger mumbled against the pillow, impressed with himself for actually forming words, but his efforts were punished with a light slap to the shoulder from John.

“You git,” John huffed, very little conviction behind the insult.

An idea flitted across Roger’s mind – well – more of a mental image, actually, which sparked an idea.

“Get Brian t’ give you one,” he mumbled, and felt John’s hands briefly stutter to a stop on his back, before getting back to work. He didn’t have to see John to know that he was blushing at the suggestion.

“Why don’t you go back to not saying anything,” John muttered after a moment, and it was a very tempting suggestion, but now Roger was curious to know what John was thinking. They hadn’t really talked about how things were going with Brian since John’s heat – too busy with the frenetic pace of touring life – and Roger realised he didn’t really know if he and John were in the same place when it came to Brian. After all, Roger was one hundred percent on board with the idea of a back massage from the alpha, and he was pretty certain Brian wouldn’t say no either.

“Y’know he’d like to,” Roger pointed out, and for a minute, he thought John’s only response would be the continued kneading of his fingers over Roger’s back, until finally…

“It would be nice,” John conceded at last, “But don’t you think the position’s a bit…” He trailed off, but shifted a little in place where he was straddling Roger’s thighs, and yeah, Roger had to admit that it _was_ a pretty intimate position.

“Too soon?” Roger asked.

“Maybe a bit,” John sighed, and his hands slid lower on Roger’s back before pressing down and sliding all the way back up to his shoulders slowly, making Roger groan again, and making the conversation slip out of his mind, along with all the rest of his thoughts.

It was only after the massage was over, and Roger was tucked under the thin duvet of the cheap hotel bed, with John held close in his arms, that the conversation resumed. Surprisingly, it was John who started it.

“I do think I… I wouldn’t mind doing a bit more with Brian,” he murmured, voice quiet enough that Roger certainly wouldn’t have caught it if the room hadn’t been totally silent otherwise.

“You wouldn’t mind doing more, or you _want_ to do more? ‘Cause those are two different things,” Roger replied, squeezing a little where his arm was hooked around John’s waist, “Don’t think just because I brought it up means I won’t wait.”

“I know,” John sighed, blue-grey eyes flicking up to meet Roger’s in the dark of the room, “I want to.”

“What stuff did you have in mind?” Roger prompted gently, and John hesitated.

“I don’t know, it’s tricky. There’s a lot that just seems… I don’t want to do anything that’s going to mean you’re left out,” John explained, and Roger felt a surge of affection. He’d been having similar thoughts, honestly – much as he liked the idea of climbing onto Brian’s lap for a lazy make-out session, he disliked the idea of John having no part to play in it. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t spent any time at all considering positions that might work for the three of them too…

“We’ve just got to be creative,” Roger said, cutting that train of thought off, “Besides, if we’re still talking about Brian giving you a massage here, I’m honestly more than happy just to watch. Maybe I can get one afterwards, when you’re all relaxed.”

“And you’re ready to take things a bit further, if things go in that direction? Further than the massage stuff?” John asked. At first, the answer seemed obvious. If it had been a two-person situation, Roger probably would have jumped into bed after the first week. But of course, this was different, and as much as Roger felt ready to go further with Brian… There was an undeniable, tiny niggling feeling of worry in him. Worry that sleeping with an alpha would make John decide Roger just wasn’t good enough for him. Already, Brian and John had this connection that Roger couldn’t share in – couldn’t even begin to understand, no matter how John tried to describe it – and the thought of being cast aside terrified him.

Roger knew John though. Knew him, and more importantly, trusted him more than anyone.

“Yeah, I reckon so,” Roger replied. There was a little lull of quiet before John spoke again.

“I think I’d rather give him a massage than the other way ‘round.”

“Yeah? Why’s that? You were saying you wanted one earlier,” Roger said.

“I know… I just think for the first time, it might be less – er- less intimidating, if I’m on top,” John explained. It was a genuine sentiment, and of course, Roger didn’t begrudge John in the slightest for feeling reluctant to be pinned down by an alpha. But Roger also had the sense of humour of a fourteen-year-old sometimes, so he couldn’t help chuckling a little at John’s phrasing.

John narrowed his eyes.

“Stop that. I know what you’re thinking, I didn’t mean it like that,” he huffed, though he seemed a bit amused too now, “Pervert.”

“You’re the one who said it!” Roger pointed out, and John just smiled wider, and shook his head.

“You’re terrible.”

Another pause, quiet and comfortable.

“You should offer, you know. I’m sure Brian would be up for it,” Roger said. After all, Brian had bought the oil in the first place.

“Maybe…” John sighed.

“You’re going to ask, then?”

“Fine. Yes. I might not ask for a couple of weeks, mind,” John murmured, “Maybe not ‘til we’re back in England. Promise you won’t mention it to him ‘til then?”

Roger grinned. He wanted to see the look on Brian’s face when John popped _that_ question.

“I promise.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_PROMISCUOUS & PROUD: IS LEEDS TOWN HALL HOSTING INAPPROPRIATE ACTS?_

“What a load of fucking drivel; a whole page and they barely talk about the music for more than ten bloody words,” Roger snapped, butting his cigarette out roughly on the small printed face of the journalist who’d written the editorial piece currently being looked at by all four band members.

John was still a bit in shock.

He’d known some people would be angry. Of course he’d known, but he hadn’t expected it to hit them quite this soon and with quite this much force.

He skimmed over the article again. The first two paragraphs weren’t too bad; they just described the show, mentioned that they had an album out, and did a quick run-through of the band members. It was the third paragraph where things took a turn.

> _Naturally, the audience was curious about this omega, looking to be in his early 20s and yet apparently unmated. I can only imagine this is part of the band’s attempt to provoke intrigue and it’s certainly effective, although it seems in particularly poor taste._
> 
> _I was satisfied at the end of their set, though, to see that Brian May – the band’s sole alpha member – seemed rather cosy with John as they moved off stage. The assumption I made then was surely the same as the rest of the audience: these two are indeed a couple, and are simply disguising the fact that they are mated, or haven’t got around to making it official yet. Sure enough, when I asked staff at the venue later – who had been able to get closer to the band – they confirmed that the couple carry each other’s scents, though not to the extent they would if mated. They’re certainly more than just friends._
> 
> _Let it not be said that I’m a grouch! Though I certainly don’t consider it a respectable move, and would never partake in that sort of business myself, if Mr May has found it to be financially beneficial to keep his omega unmated for the sake of selling tickets, that is certainly his prerogative. Only a fool would miss that several alphas in the audience that night seemed quite keen on Mr Deacon._
> 
> _Where I must draw the line though, dear readers, is in what I saw when heading backstage for my scheduled interview with the band._
> 
> _This omega – the very same omega who I had seen holding hands with Mr May not fifteen minutes earlier – was perched on the lap of Mr Roger Taylor (the beta on drums), engaging with him quite intimately. Had I come across a scene of adultery? Apparently not, as Mr Deacon’s presumed-alpha was doing his hair not ten feet away, watching the whole thing unfold as if it were completely normal._
> 
> _Of course, I was so disgusted that I left without conducting my interview, but not before discovering from one of the band’s touring staff that-_

John didn’t get to read any further, as Roger was grabbing the paper and angrily shredding it – a fresh cigarette now dangling from scowling mouth.

“I was reading that,” John pointed out, and he couldn’t bring himself to inject any tone in his voice. He felt a little embarrassed, a little ill, but mostly he just felt empty. He didn’t want to deal with all the emotion that came with having something he cared about so dearly – the relationship between himself, Roger and Brian that they were slowly nurturing into something safe and comfortable – be ripped apart and spat upon by somebody who couldn’t bear its mere existence.

“Nothing worth reading, babe, this guy doesn’t know what he’s fucking talking about,” Roger snapped, continuing to shred the paper even though it had gone well past the point of legibility, “What a moron. We were bloody _kissing,_ he makes it sound like we were- And even if we _were_ , it’s none of his goddamn business.”

“Arsehole writes for a local bloody paper and thinks he’s top dog! Typical, preaching, blood-sucking journalist,” Freddie chimed in, “Don’t you three pay any mind to him. It was a bloody good show and the rest of those boys and girls in the audience didn’t give a single toss about you two holding hands, or you two snogging a bit backstage,” he continued.

Brian still hadn’t said anything. While Freddie and Roger were on the warpath, Brian seemed to be more on the same wavelength as John – quietly processing what had been written. John glanced up at him, and Brian offered a wry smile, hand coming to rest at the back of John’s neck.

It was a bit of an intimate gesture, coming from an alpha. One intended to comfort, and it certainly worked – just that one touch, and John could feel his anxiety start to ebb away as he leaned into Brian.

“I don’t want to be a distraction from the music,” John said, keeping his voice soft. He loved Roger, and he’d talk to Roger about this too, but right now the blond was pissed and John didn’t want to add to his bad mood. “I knew- I knew people would disapprove. But I don’t want us to just be… _that band with the promiscuous omega_.”

“We aren’t,” Brian said, and his voice sounded so sure, John wasn’t sure how he managed it. He wondered if that was a little of Brian’s alpha side, peeking through. “We won’t be. Sure, maybe to some idiots in the press, but that’s not how the fans will see us… And they matter more, don’t they?”

The words made sense – a lot of sense, actually.

“And this doesn’t change things between us, right?” he asked.

“Not one bit.”

Sat amongst the shredded ruins of what had been the Leeds Express, John felt far more at ease than he had a few minutes ago. More than anything, he hoped that Brian’s assurance would still ring true the next time something like that was written, and the next time, and the time after that.

Deep down, John found that he trusted Brian enough to believe that it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just in such a Mood for this fic recently, I can't stop writing it! I think I'm just excited now that the poly has started properly.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated. Thanks for all of your thoughtful input about the future structure of this fic last chapter <3 You guys are amazing! I'm glad to spoil you a bit with three chapters in three days ;)


	18. Massage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian finally gets to participate in using the gift he got for John and Roger...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M (leaning towards E, but no explicit sex)

Brian could really get used to this.

Roger pressed their lips together again, the kiss heated and intimate and intensified by the fact that John was simultaneously nuzzling into Brian’s jaw, pressing soft little kisses over the stubble just starting to form there.

They were stopping for an extra night in Glasgow – their first night off after nine consecutive shows – and Roger had been very quick to suggest that the three of them retire to bed early rather than go out on the town with Freddie. Far from seeming miffed at being left alone, Freddie had seemed rather amused, sharing a strange look with John before wishing them a ‘fantastic evening’.

At that point, Brian should have suspected that something was up.

Roger broke the kiss, and Brian couldn’t recall the moment when Roger had moved from just sitting at his side to straddling his thigh, but that was certainly where Roger was now. Not that Brian was complaining. In fact, he only had a scarce moment to dwell on it before John was kissing him, soft and careful. Where Roger seemed to like showering Brian with a barrage of deep and eager kisses, breaking apart for breath every few moments only to return with more intensity the next time, John seemed to prefer slow, lingering kisses.

Brian was finding that he quite liked both approaches, so much so that he couldn’t hide a little disappointment from his expression when John broke the kiss earlier than he had expected. The omega didn’t pull back, though.

“I wanted to ask you something,” John murmured, lips ghosting over Brian's, and Brian could smell him in the air. Could smell the arousal that was barely-there, but slowly elevating, and the tinge of nerves that sharpened it.

“And what would that be?” he asked, and John’s cheeks flushed a lovely pink. Whether that was due to the question, or the fact that Roger had leaned over and started peppering kisses over John’s neck, Brian wasn’t sure.

“D’you remember that oil you got for me and Rog?” John asked, and it was a pretty simple question, but Brian still found himself blinking owlishly at John for a moment. Roger sniggered, and John nudged him with his elbow.

“Er, yeah, ‘course I do. What about it?” Brian asked, voice thick. He already had ideas about what John might be getting at. In fact, his traitorous mind was going into great detail about those ideas as he watched John hesitate a moment over his reply.

“I thought it might be nice to give you a massage. If you want to,” John said, and when Brian didn’t reply immediately, he added, “Or you could watch me and Rog, if you don’t want to… He promised he’d give me one after anyway.”

Brian wasn’t sure how he was meant to formulate something to say in response when John kept throwing out these ridiculously good ideas in such rapid succession. His brain was only providing static when he tried to think of a suitable reply.

“I think you broke him, John,” Roger teased, then added a little lower, “Told you he’d be into it.” Back to Brian, he said: “He waited nearly a month to ask. I was dying waiting.”

“Roger!” John hissed, but he was smiling that fond, embarrassed smile he always wore when Roger teased him in a way that he didn’t _really_ mind. Brian was glad for the interjection, though, it gave him a moment to actually get his brain round the right way again.

“I think it sounds nice,” Brian managed to get out eventually. It was an understatement too. It sounded amazing. It sounded more than amazing. He wanted to ask if Roger would mind being left out, but the frankly _hungry_ look in Roger’s eyes told Brian that he was plenty happy just to watch.

“Shirt off then, Bri,” Roger purred, fingers dipping down to Brian’s waist and then slipping up just under his shirt, tracing over his stomach, “I swear, you’ve never had a massage as good as John’s in your life.”

Brian decided not to mention that he’d never had a massage at all. He was sure the statement held true either way.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a bloody good thing, Roger mused, that he was a beta, because if Brian and John could smell just how turned on he was from watching somebody else get a massage, they might think he was a bit weird. Fortunately, all Roger had to worry about was whether the position he was sat in gave away that he was sporting an erection, and – more pressingly – whether he could discreetly stroke himself through his trousers without Brian or John noticing…

He focused back on the scene in front of him, keenly aware that he should be savouring it while it lasted.

John’s expression was a mix of fondness and concentration as he worked his hands over Brian’s back, pausing every couple of minutes just to lean down and press a soft kiss to the back of Brian’s neck and gently ask him if it all still felt okay. That was one of the nice things about massages from John – they felt so much more intimate for all the care he put into it. By this point, though, Brian was usually just responding with low, satisfied groans and the occasional slurred confirmation that he was doing just fine.

Speaking of Brian, the older man definitely suited being shirtless with his back slathered in oil, in Roger’s opinion. His face was mostly hidden by his mess of curly hair, and the duvet it was pressed into, but from what Roger could see, he was pretty zoned out. Every now and again, he would moan – deep and sensuous – and it sent a frisson of heat through Roger each time. He wondered if it did the same to John – the omega’s cheeks certainly seemed quite flushed in the low light of the room.

“Are you still awake, Bri?” John’s soft voice was asking, and Roger genuinely wasn’t sure of the answer until Brian made a low rumble that sounded a bit like a ‘yeah’. It made John smile, and so Roger couldn’t help but smile too as he watched John slowly stroke down Brian’s back a few more times before stopping the movements of his hands.

“Feeling better?” John murmured, and Brian nodded a little as John climbed off him. “Go to sleep if you want. You look tired. Me and Roger don’t mind, right, Rog?”

“Don’t think I could stop him even I did,” Roger replied, because as Brian attempted to roll over halfway onto his side, it was obvious just how close he was to dozing off there and then. “I’m pretty tired too, actually,” Roger added.

“Don’t you dare, you promised me,” John said so quickly that Roger couldn’t help but laugh. He _had_ promised John a massage, and he didn’t really have any intention of skipping out on it, but he liked to tease.

“Alright, guess I could just about manage that,” Roger chuckled, and it didn’t escape his attention that Brian looked a little more awake now, watching the two of them rather intensely.

Well, Roger could hardly blame him if he wanted to watch.

John was moving to unbutton his shirt, but Roger quickly stopped him, gently brushing his hands away and reaching to do it himself. Being undressed by Roger was one of those intimate little things John loved, but rarely asked for or mentioned at all. It was just by virtue of knowing John so well that Roger remembered to do them anyway.

“You should give me massage lessons,” Roger murmured, slowly nudging John’s shirt open and off his shoulders once it was unbuttoned, “I’m nowhere near as good as you.”

“Would those happen to involve me giving you a massage as a demonstration?” John asked, eyebrow raised, “You’ve tried that line on me before.”

From his right, Roger heard Brian chuckle softly. He chose to ignore that he’d been caught out.

“Lie down, then,” Roger purred once John’s shirt was off, shifting over to give him space. It was beginning to occur to Roger that he was still half-hard, and John would definitely be able to feel that from the position they were about to be in, but really, it was nothing John hadn’t felt a hundred times before. He’d probably tease Roger about it if they were alone.

Probably, Roger mused, feeling a little proud of himself, John would just be disappointed he wasn’t getting _more_ than a massage tonight. Not that Roger wouldn’t be up for it. He was more than up for it, there was just the frustrating fact that they weren’t quite at that point with Brian yet – and much as his currently-quite-randy brain didn’t care, he knew for sure John wasn’t ready for it, and if he was honest with himself, he probably wasn’t either.

Not letting his mind dwell on it, Roger moved to straddle the backs of John’s thighs, letting his fingers skirt playfully down John’s back – and then cheekily, just a little lower.

“You’re insatiable,” John mumbled, pillowing his head in his arms, turned so he was facing Brian. Roger couldn’t quite see John’s face – which was a real pity – but he could imagine the expression: fond and amused.

“You love it,” he murmured, “Can you pass the oil, Bri?”

Brian shifted rather lethargically – though he didn’t look quite as inattentively sleepy as he had moments ago – and grabbed the massage oil from the bedside table, passing it over to Roger who poured a little onto his hands to warm up.

John – who hadn’t even been particularly tense to begin with – softened immediately as Roger’s hands slid over his shoulders. He didn’t let out the dreamy little sigh he so often did when Roger first touched him though, and it only took a second for Roger to guess that that was thanks to Brian’s presence.

Still, even though Roger wasn’t so talented with massage as John, he knew what John liked. It didn’t take too long for him to draw out a soft moan – though really, it was more of a breathy exhale with a tinge of sound tied into it.

It was addictive to hear, so Roger cheated a little, brushing John’s hair to one side with the back of his hand and starting to slide his hands slowly over John’s shoulders, slipping up every now and again to caress the side of his neck. It was a spot he knew was sensitive, some dynamics thing that Roger knew about but didn’t really question the reasoning behind.

Sure enough, on the second pass of his oiled hand over the side of John’s neck, John moaned properly, and Roger thrilled a little with pride.

Curious, he glanced over to Brian to see that the alpha appeared just as interested in the whole thing as Roger had been watching Brian massage John earlier, eyes fixed on the scene before him. Roger was definitely going to kiss Brian again in a minute, when he’d given John all the attention he deserved, he thought. He was going to kiss Brian, and then maybe sometime soon, they’d all go a bit further than even this.

He eased his hands again over John’s shoulder, and savoured the feeling of Brian’s eyes on him and the soft moan his hands drew out of John, and thought that that next step couldn’t come soon enough.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’ve been with alphas, right Freddie?”

The question seemed to come a bit out of the blue, but that was how it usually worked with John and these sorts of topics. He would come to Freddie looking a bit nervous – just as he had today, showing up at the door of Freddie’s hotel room – and then strike up a conversation about something totally inane, waiting for a lull in that conversation before bringing up the topic he was _actually_ concerned about. Honestly, Freddie thought it was rather sweet. Of course, he knew John was no innocent flower, but he certainly felt a little streak of protectiveness over their youngest member.

“Of course, darling, plenty of them,” he replied, “Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering, I suppose…” John murmured, one knee pulled up to his chest where he sat on Freddie’s bed, “Is it very different? To being with a beta, I mean.”

“It depends on the alpha,” Freddie replied truthfully, “Though there are certainly trends. They tend to be a bit more heavy-handed. A bit more possessive, you know? Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, if that’s what you like. Is it?”

John stared at him for a good few seconds before seeming to realise that Freddie actually wanted an answer, and then he ducked his head, and flushed, and did all the things Freddie was used to seeing him do when he asked a slightly personal question. But sure enough, after giving John a moment, Freddie got a reply.

“Maybe. Sometimes. Not- not in excess but it doesn’t sound- I mean, it _does_ sound… okay, perhaps,” John stammered out, “I do like it sometimes, if Roger’s like that. But that’s Roger. Maybe it’s different. It’s very… loving, with Roger.”

“Which it would be, with Brian,” Freddie pointed out, “And I assume he’s the reason you’re asking?”

John nodded. It wasn’t really a question that needed answering, honestly.

“Has Roger ever been with an alpha, do you know? Or will it be new for him too?” Freddie asked, and was a bit surprised at the effect the question seemed to have. John stiffened up, jaw clenching and expression shutting off into something carefully neutral.

“He has,” John replied, hesitating a moment before continuing, “We don’t- Sorry, can we not talk about that?”

“Of course, darling,” Freddie said softly, and admittedly, part of him was curious, but he would never dream of pushing John past the limit of what he was comfortable talking about.

There was a pause, where John seemed to try to shake off whatever thoughts had been brought to the forefront of his mind, before he spoke again.

“I think I’d like to do more with Brian,” he murmured, “I know Roger would. But next week is… Well, you know. So it won’t happen next week. And then the week after that, me and Rog will probably be a bit too tired for anything. Maybe- maybe after that, though.”

Freddie knew John was talking about his heat – they’d had to schedule a gap in the tour to fit around it, utterly refusing any suggestion that they could go on playing without John, especially since that would mean John spending most of his heat without Roger. But if John didn’t want to acknowledge it verbally, Freddie wouldn’t either. He was getting better, he thought, at dealing with all this dynamics stuff in conversation.

“Bri doesn’t mind waiting, I’m sure,” Freddie assured him. It wasn’t the first time he’d given such an assurance to John.

“Yeah,” John sighed, and then shot Freddie a little smile, “Thanks, Freddie.”

Freddie smiled back, and certain as he was that Brian wouldn’t be anything but perfectly considerate, it did briefly cross his mind that he would scalp the alpha if he wasn’t.

“Anytime, darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And thank you for bearing with me as I've been rather inactive this week!!
> 
> Before the usual spiel, I'd just like to promote some beautiful, amazing, fantastic, gorgeous art that a buddy of mine did of this very fic!! Please check it out, and give them a bit of love if you like it, I think it's fantastic!!! It can be found here: https://discodeakys.tumblr.com/post/182478575698/i-could-have-hurt-you-brian-sounded-absolutely
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated very much! I haven't actually gotten around to replying to a few comments from last chapter yet, but I promise I will, I've read them all and loved them. I just wanted to focus on getting this chapter out, as I've kept you waiting a bit!


	19. An Interlude of First Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a first time for everything. These are some of Roger, John, and Brian's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E (honestly, if you want to skip the sex, just skip the chapter)
> 
> Just to clarify, though hopefully it's clear in the chapter title and content, this whole chapter is flashbacks! So please don't be confused. It's just a little interlude, to give an idea of the trio's past experiences...

“Come on, Bri, loosen up a little.”

“I am,” Brian muttered, and pressed his lips to Tim’s again just so the other man wouldn’t call him out on the obvious lie. Really, Brian was anything but _loosened up._ He was eighteen, and had never done this before, and was a little terrified that if he let instinct take over, he would hurt the beta currently sat on his lap. That was the last thing Brian wanted.

Despite all of his nerves, though, Brian was still somehow turned on. He and Tim had been dancing around eachother for months, had gone from being just friends to something more about two weeks ago, and apparently Tim wasn’t one to wait around.

“Are you sure you want to-“ Brian began when their lips broke apart, and Tim rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, for the hundredth time, _yes,”_ he huffed, and then he was reaching for Brian’s belt – hands brushing over Brian’s clothed erection, making his hips twitch up subconsciously, seeking friction.

It seemed like barely two seconds later that Tim had shoved a hand into his boxers, a bit too dry as he wrapped it around Brian’s cock, but _God_ did it still feel overwhelmingly good. Brian choked out a moan, fingers tightening too much where they were gripping at Tim’s hips, but Tim didn’t seem discouraged by it.

“Are you gonna fuck me then, Bri?” Tim muttered, hot breath tickling against Brian’s ear, and Brian groaned lowly. He wanted to. He really did, every part of him was screaming to get Tim pinned down to the bed and thrust into him, to cover Tim’s smaller body with his own and litter his neck and shoulders with marks so nobody could question that Tim was his. He wanted it so badly it was like a tangible ache.

“Lube,” Brian gritted out, firmly pushing away the desires flooding his head. It was too much; it would freak Tim out, surely, or worse, Brian would get carried away and hurt him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got us covered,” Tim replied, and then he leaned away – presumably to grab the lube from his bedside drawer – but Brian still felt a rumbling growl bubble up from his chest before he could stop it.

Tim shot him a bemused look, and Brian flushed, taking a moment to regain his composure. Thankfully, Tim was pressed close to him again in a matter of moments, pressing a pot of Vaseline into Brian’s hand and kissing him again, slow and thorough as Brian fumbled to strip Tim out of his trousers without actually being able to see what he was doing.

From there, things went alarmingly fast. Tim was eager, and a little pushy, and before long Brian found himself nuzzling into Tim’s back as he worked slick fingers clumsily into the beta. He really wished Tim hadn’t rolled onto his hands and knees, wished he’d opted for missionary instead, because like this it was even harder for Brian to reign in his instincts.

“Fuck, I’m ready,” Tim groused from beneath him, and Brian ignored it, because Tim still felt so tight around his fingers. A few moments later, Tim was speaking up again, though: “Come on, Brian, don’t get shy on me now.”

And really, much as Brian _did_ want to stretch him a little more, it was hard to ignore temptation when Tim was asking for it, and the curve of his arse and the wet sounds of Brian’s fingers thrusting into him were pushing buttons Brian didn’t even know he had.

Still…

“You’re sure?” he checked, voice strained as he leaned over to brush a kiss against Tim’s cheek.

“God, yes, hurry up,” Tim groaned, and this time, Brian listened.

And it was good. It was amazing, actually, once Brian did actually loosen up – a choice that wasn’t really a choice, because being inside of Tim in this position made Brian’s self-control fly out of the window. It was great, even though some baser part of Brian was a little disappointed to bury his face into the crook of Tim’s neck and not find the sweet scent of an omega there. It was great, even though it was all over quite fast, and he had to jerk Tim off afterwards and bite back an apology for being so quick to finish.

It was great until the next morning when Tim was sat on the bed, wincing as he poked at the bruises Brian had left on his hips, and the marks Brian had sucked onto his neck and shoulders. And then Brian just felt ashamed. Ashamed of how he’d still done _that_ when he was trying so hard to be gentle, and ashamed of how some part of him was thrilled to see those marks on Tim’s skin.

And it was frustrating, to be so worried about being intimate with Tim again, but Brian knew he’d rather deal with that shame than the alternative of acting like most alphas and just not caring at all. Maybe, he told himself, one day, he’d figure all this out and it wouldn’t be an issue anymore.

Maybe, one day.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” John checked for what must have been the twentieth time, and Roger might have been annoyed if he didn’t find it so endearing, and if he wasn’t so ridiculously turned on from the way John’s fingers were curled up against that sweet spot inside of him, like John knew exactly where it was even though this was the first time they’d ever tried this.

“It’s fine,” Roger huffed, “It’s really fucking good, actually, do you know you’re bloody amazing?”

John flushed, and smiled one of those sweet, shy smiles of his before leaning in to kiss Roger again. It was an achingly sweet kiss, totally at odds with the slightly filthy, slick sounds of John stretching Roger open – a thought that served only to turn Roger on even more.

It was ages since he’d been fingered. Ages since he’d had anything inside of him, actually – Roger had been half-convinced that he’d just never feel that glorious stretch ever again, because John had never shown any interest in topping until tonight, when the omega had suggested it completely out of the blue. It had been a surprise – but a very pleasant one.

“Fuck,” he groaned when John broke the kiss, and his two fingers were joined by a third, pressing into Roger – the added stretch barely burning at all, because John had already prepared Roger so thoroughly.

“Is that alright?” John asked, nuzzling gently into the crook of Roger’s neck, “Tell me- Promise you’ll tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s good, John, I promise,” Roger panted, and really, he could sympathise a little with the fact that this must be somewhat nerve-wracking for John – who got so wet when he was turned on that prep like this just wasn’t necessary, who had no real reference point for what it would feel like _not_ to be naturally equipped for this sort of thing.

John’s fingers crooked up against Roger’s prostate again, and his thoughts flew off track as he moaned desperately. He’d half-forgotten just how _good_ this felt. John was being meticulous, and slow, but Roger was hardly complaining. It felt amazing, the building anticipation and the feeling of fullness sending pleasant tingles of warmth up his spine.

“Do you think-“ John began after a few more minutes, and Roger had anticipated the question, was already answering it before John could finish speaking.

“Yes, I’m ready, God, I’m so ready.” His voice sounded high and reedy even to his own ears, but John didn’t seem to mind at all.

Roger bit back a whine when John’s fingers pulled out – even though John did it slowly, obviously knowing the feeling well enough to know it wasn’t so bad that way – and was quick to hitch up his knees in preparation for what was coming. John was still for a moment, though, staring at Roger like he was some mythical being, like he was the most beautiful thing John had ever seen. It was something Roger could appreciate about John, the fact that, outside of heats, at least - which Roger had still only witnessed once – sex was never mindless or selfish or without feeling. With John, sex always felt like an expression of love, which is how it should be, Roger supposed.

Sure enough, as John shifted closer – taking a moment to figure out how he should position himself when he wasn’t the one receiving – he leaned down, nose bumping gently against Roger’s before he managed to bring their lips together for a warm, lingering kiss as he got himself into position.

Roger knew well enough that it was tricky to get the angle right, especially the first time. It took a few thrusts of John’s cock against the crease of Roger’s arse before the omega slid in, and he moaned sharply into the kiss as he did. That was something else Roger knew very well: the sudden, intense feeling of closeness to another person, the overwhelming urge just to thrust deeper straight away, because it felt so bloody good it was hard to resist.

John was so sweetly gentle though. He kept kissing Roger, waiting for Roger to move and show that he was ready for more before thrusting deeper, and each time he did, John moaned against Roger’s lips, like he couldn’t believe how good it felt.

When he was finally pressed all the way into Roger, John broke the kiss, just pressing their foreheads together and exhaling shakily as Roger stroked his back. And really, although in the past he’d always liked to be fucked a little on the rougher side, Roger couldn’t help but love this. How John wasn’t frantic with the way he moved, grinding his hips forward to fuck Roger deep and slow, making the whole thing wonderfully intimate. How John kept kissing Roger, like he couldn’t help himself, and how – whenever their lips weren’t pressed together – John was breathing out soft ‘I love you’s and moans of Roger’s name.

As good as it was, the whole thing was over far too soon, Roger already halfway to orgasm just from the foreplay. He slid his hand down John’s back when he felt his own orgasm approaching, teasing his fingers over where John was wet with arousal – and giving him ample opportunity to push Roger’s hand away, if he wasn’t in the mood for it, but Roger suspected he was. He knew well-enough by now that John usually struggled to orgasm without something inside of him, and even if he could, he preferred that extra stimulation. Sure enough, slipping two fingers into John had the omega’s hips stuttering forward with a soft keen of pleasure.

It didn’t take long after that. John rocked forward into Roger – and then back against the press of his fingers – a few more times, breathless little sounds building to a series of keening moans as he shuddered and tipped his head back and spilled inside of Roger.

That feeling was enough to have Roger following him over the edge, clumsily pushing himself up on an elbow so he could kiss John’s open mouth as he came, raw and desperate, and John kissed him back just as desperately.

And despite the fact that they’d made love dozens of times before, Roger felt like he was closer to John, after that, like some invisible barrier between them had been knocked down. Like they’d pushed past what seemed to be the ever-present truth of their existence – that John was an omega, and Roger was a beta, and they should act a certain way because of it – and just seen eachother as themselves. Or perhaps Roger was just feeling introspective and philosophical after a particularly good shag, and all of that was nonsense.

It seemed John felt it too, though, because when he came down from his orgasm and flopped down on the bed, he shot Roger a soft, wobbly little smile, and Roger was struck – not for the first time – by how far gone he was for John.  So far gone that he was pretty sure the omega could rip Roger’s heart out of his chest, and it would still beat only with love for John, because Roger was so enamoured with him.

So enamoured that he wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to risk himself defending John from any alpha that tried to lay hands on him; so enamoured that he’d hold John through a thousand horrible, lonely heats just so John didn’t have to endure them alone.

So enamoured that the whole world could be against them – and it often seemed to be that way – and Roger would still be happy, just so long as John loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! I know it was a bit of a funny chapter, but the more I tried to write onwards in the plot, the more I thought it was relevant to have a context for what came before the first chapter of this fic. (Those of you who follow me on tumblr may recognise the ending of this from the outtake I posted there!)
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! I love reading what y'all think, and I'm curious especially of your thoughts on this chapter.


	20. A Simple Fact of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian knows that playing live so close to John's heat is a bad idea. He knows, but they're doing it anyway.
> 
> a.k.a. A frightening incident, as seen in three PoVs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M
> 
> CW: violence, blood, the implied threat of non-con/dub-con that is part and parcel of this AU

Usually, music was the ultimate distraction for Brian.

Of course, it was hardly the only reason he played, but it was quite nice that once he got his hands on a guitar, he could rely on the fact that he’d be lost in its strings within a few minutes, thoughts too knotted up in chords and tone to linger on any external worries.

Frustratingly, and as with so many things, apparently Brian’s instincts had an override switch for that particular, comforting reaction.

They were about halfway through their last gig before a week long break – a break neatly scheduled to overlap with John’s heat - and Brian regretted that they’d agreed to play at all so close to the start of it. John had already begun acting different – had seemed nervous to leave the safety of the makeshift nest he’d thrown together back at the hotel, and had been skittish and quiet backstage.

Brian felt even worse for knowing that – even after the gig was over – there was the three-hour drive back to London for John to endure before being back in the safety of his and Roger’s cosy little flat. Honestly, Brian had almost attempted to call off the gig when he’d seen John backstage, obviously frustrated with himself as he splashed cold water over his face and neck – which did very little to mask the burgeoning scent of heat that he carried with him. In the end, it had been Roger who took Brian aside, and said rather firmly that if John decided he was okay to go on stage, then that was that.

Next time though, Brian promised himself, they’d leave plenty of time in the tour schedule for John’s heat. They’d had to cut it close this time around – because they were too new on the scene to have any real negotiating power, and the pressure had been piled on in the meeting about tour dates, with phrases such as ‘back-up bassist’ and ‘temporary replacement’ being thrown around – but this wasn’t fair on John.

Brian strummed out the final chords of _Hangman_ , and glanced over to where Freddie was – well – being _Freddie_ ; flirting a bit with the audience before he introduced _Keep Yourself Alive_. Actually, Brian had to admit, it was a pretty good audience tonight, lively, and eager to call back when Freddie threw out playful little questions.

He couldn’t help but notice, though, that John had a few ‘fans’ near the front row.

Generally, John attracted two types of fans. The first type were largely harmless, and Brian thought John was actually quite fond of them – usually younger, unmated omegas, or beta women, who liked John because they saw him as non-threatening and approachable. These were the type who brought little homemade gifts and trinkets for him, and who were surprisingly accepting of John’s relationship with Roger – something that wasn’t deliberately publicised, but which John also made no effort to hide, meaning that most regulars at their shows had picked up on it.

It was the second type of fan that Brian dreaded seeing at every show, and he knew John did too. The alphas, who thought that if they paid enough money for tickets and hung around persistently enough trying to catch John’s attention, then he would throw himself into their arms. The alphas who either hadn’t noticed Roger and John’s relationship or didn’t give two tosses about it because Roger was a beta and didn’t ping up as a threat on their radar.

Brian’s mind landed on the very uncomfortable thought that some of those alphas – close to the front as they were - could probably just about catch the sweet scent of John’s impending heat. It rattled him enough that he nearly played the entirely wrong notes to start off _Keep Yourself Alive._

The situation sucked, but thinking about it now wasn’t productive, he reminded himself. All he could do was play well, and deal with the rest later.

He glanced over at John, who looked shaky and tired, like the stage was the last place he wanted to be.

_Play well, and deal with the rest later._

He heard a bit of a commotion in the audience, like a scuffle was breaking out, but venue security would deal with that, surely.

_Play well, and deal with the rest later._

The noise continued, even over the electric thrum of Brian’s guitar as he eased into the rhythm he’d been familiar with since he was just a teenager.

_Play well, and deal with the rest la-_

An alpha, unfamiliar and unwelcome, seemed to appear abruptly on the stage, scarcely a few feet away from John, and Brian didn’t think. Couldn’t think. He was moving across the stage, mindless and blind.

He just saw red, and tasted iron, and smelled the bitter scent of John’s panic.

And distantly, he heard the sound of smashing glass.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

John was frozen.

His heart was pounding with fear, and even though some logical part of him could see that the danger had passed – the intruding alpha now knocked to the floor, Roger standing over him with the neck of a smashed beer bottle raised above his head just in case the alpha decided to try getting up again – John’s limbs wouldn’t unlock from their rigid position.

And he was used to this by now, depressingly enough. Usually, he could manage not to panic while he waited to calm down enough that he could move again, but this time was different. This time, panic was swelling up in him and clutching at his heart and making him feel like he might just be sick because Brian was on the floor too.

Brian, who had been the first to rush to John’s aid, had taken a few good punches to the face before Roger intervened, and there was a terrifying amount of blood. Blood on the stage, blood on John’s chest and neck, blood all over Brian – who seemed conscious, just about, sprawled on the stage at John’s feet and clutching at his nose.

And John wanted to _help._ He wanted to get Brian to a hospital – because he surely needed to see a doctor – and he wanted to take the remnants of the bottle from Roger’s hand and reassure him that he’d been as quick to react as possible – because Roger always blamed himself after these sorts of incidents, for not being fast enough. John wanted to _do something_ to begin fixing the terrible situation he’d landed the band in, because his godforsaken pheromones persisted in beckoning alphas close when the rest of John wasn’t even slightly interested.

John wanted to help, to do _something_ even slightly useful, to do _anything_ but just stand frozen and watch the world around him unravel out of control.

But he couldn’t.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

“You should go back in.”

Roger must have heard about twenty suggestions to that effect in the past five minutes, so he wasn’t surprised to hear it again. It did hurt, though, to think John believed Roger might actually consider leaving him alone out here.

John was restless, pacing back and forth in the hospital car park, teeth worrying at his lower lip, looking pale and vulnerable in the darkness of night. A jumper had been hastily pulled over his shirt, but flecks of blood could still be seen on the exposed skin of neck. Seeing John so wound up was starting to make Roger lose the cool he’d been so carefully trying to cultivate since they arrived at the hospital, but John could hardly be blamed for being nervous. He was on the cusp of heat - which made him agitated at the best of times - and had only narrowly avoided being assaulted on stage just under an hour ago.

Roger didn’t let his mind linger on that last fact. He could still recall seeing it so vividly; stuck too far back on the stage to react as quickly as he should have, reaching desperately for something heavy and solid because he knew – he knew from experiences that he shouldn’t have even had in the first place – that there was no use trying to fight off an alpha in that state with his fists.

“I’m staying with you,” Roger replied firmly. Honestly, he didn’t like leaving Brian in the A&E waiting room with just Freddie looking after him either, but staying with him just hadn’t been tenable. In the fifteen minutes they _had_ managed to stay in the frantically bustling waiting room, John had been a wreck, practically jumping out of his skin at every little noise and clinging so tightly to Roger’s arm that there were no doubt bruises forming there by now. So, the car park had seemed like the better option.

If Roger was being entirely honest, it was a bit frightening to see John like this. He was even more… _not-himself_ than he usually was right before his heats – which Roger might have assumed was a result of the attack, but he’d been a bit like this all day. From what Brian had said earlier, it was more to do with being away from the safety of their flat, which made sense, Roger supposed. In the past, John had never had a reason to leave the flat for more than twenty minutes or so in the couple of days leading up to his heat, but Roger had never really thought too much about that fact.

“There’s no reason for you to stay out here just because I’m-“

“I’m staying, John. Freddie’s taking care of Brian. They wouldn’t want me to leave you alone,” Roger quickly interjected, reaching over to grasp John’s hand and still him for a moment, “The nurse said it would probably just be a few stitches, right? That’s fine, Brian’s going to be fine.”

Roger could understand why it was hard to believe it would be fine when there had been so much blood, but he knew head injuries were like that. He knew John knew that too, but John wasn’t in the most grounded state of mind right now.

A small, selfish part of Roger really, really wished that John was a bit more grounded, because he needed someone to lean on just as much as John did in that moment, and Brian was currently a good few hundred feet away with blood pouring out of his face.

Roger’s attention was drawn back to the present moment when John suddenly stepped closer to him, abruptly occupying Roger’s personal space – not that he cared in the slightest. And John didn’t say anything but he didn’t have to. The way he slipped his arms around Roger’s waist, and rested his head on his shoulder, was all Roger really needed to settle his racing thoughts a little.

The looming darkness of night around them seemed huge and unending, and Roger wondered how Brian would feel, when the dust had settled. After all, this was new for Brian – who had been inducted in blood and violence – but it wasn’t new for Roger, not in the slightest.

And he knew that it would happen again, as it had before.

And he knew that it would take a while to get back to normal, as it had before.

But he knew that they would survive. As they had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I um and ah over so many chapters of this fic, but I especially um-ed and ah-ed over this one. Next chapter will definitely have more Soft moments, I promise!!! But it felt like relevant context.
> 
> Thanks for reading <3 And as always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. I'm still pleasantly surprised by just how interactive the Queen fandom is with fic authors!!


	21. But Life Still Goes On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on after what happened that night, but the impact lasts longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (what's this, a new chapter the day after, and double the length of a usual chapter? Gosh...)
> 
> Rating: M (there's a tiny tiiiny bit I would rate explicit, but honestly it's tiny. Discussion of sex and stuff. References to attempted assault from last chapter)

“How are you feeling?”

John was speaking softly, voice a little hoarse – which was typical during the tail-end of his heat. All the concern in his expression couldn’t possibly be communicated down the phone line to Brian, but Roger saw it plain as day from where he was sat beside John on the sofa, gently stroking his thigh.

Whatever Brian said made John smile a little, a soft thing that Roger had scarcely seen at all the past few days. John had fallen _hard_ into his heat almost as soon as they’d arrived home, and hadn’t really surfaced properly until late in the third day.

“I didn’t get to thank you properly, the other day. I wasn’t really… I wasn’t myself,” John was saying, then paused – Roger could just about hear Brian’s tinny voice through the phone, and he wanted to speak to him too, but he knew it was only fair to let John have his turn. Roger must’ve called Brian at least ten times during those first three days – when John was literally incapable of holding a conversation – but this was the first time John had been able to talk to Brian properly since all that went down at their last show.

“Yeah… No, I’m feeling okay. I was just worried about you,” John said, dropping his head down to rest against Roger’s shoulder, “You’ll come over on Thursday, won’t you?”

Another pause. Roger dropped a kiss to the top of John’s head.

“I know,” John murmured, soft and pensive, “I promise. And you promise you’re taking care of yourself?”

Even as he spoke, John was starting to nose closer to Roger’s neck, and shifting a little in his lap. There was a good reason he didn’t usually phone people midway through his heat - when the urge to fuck came in intervals frequent enough that holding a civilised conversation wasn’t easy.

Roger gave him a gentle nudge on the shoulder, because he knew John would be upset if his tentative control slipped and his heat-addled brain made him do something silly – like inviting Brian over, which he’d suggested quite a few times on the drive home right before the heat hit properly.

John glanced up at him with wide, darkened eyes, and seemed to take a second to catch up with Roger’s thought process. He got it after a moment though, and sighed as he relinquished the telephone to Roger’s hand.

“Hi, Bri. Just me. Yeah, disappointing, I know,” Roger teased, chest warming just from hearing Brian’s soft chuckle on the other end of the line, “Sorry to cut things short, but we’ve got to get going. You’re taking care of yourself, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. The worst of the swelling’s over, I think,” Brian replied, “But I won’t bore you with that. Take care, the both of you.”

Brian hung up, which was probably a good thing, because Roger had been half-tempted to stay on the line just to hear the lovely, comforting tone of his voice a little more. But that was a terrible idea, because John’s control had slipped so quickly, and he was grinding a little against Roger’s thigh now, wordlessly asking for attention.

A few minutes later, and John was stripped out of his boxers, fingers scrabbling at Roger’s shoulders and keening moans spilling from his lips as Roger fucked three fingers into him. And still, Roger’s mind was half-lingering on the sound of Brian’s voice, soothing him even when the alpha wasn’t there.

\----------------------------------------

From the moment of Brian showing up at John and Roger’s flat early that morning, the three of them had seemed practically glued together.

John didn’t mind it much at all. He felt perfectly safe and content, sandwiched between Roger and Brian on the sofa, chatting leisurely about whatever came to mind but more often than not just lounging in comfortable silence.

John could almost persuade himself that things were perfectly alright, so long as he kept his face nuzzled into the crook of Brian’s neck and didn’t look up at the little row of stitches under Brian’s right eyebrow, or at the bruising that distorted half of his face. By Brian’s account, it was better now than it had been yesterday, but John couldn’t picture that. It looked horribly painful as it was.

“He seems more tired than usual,” Brian murmured, and it took John a second to realise he was referring to Roger. Roger who had, indeed, nodded off, drooling a bit on John’s shoulder – which John didn’t mind particularly, since it was an old shirt, and since he was the reason Roger was so exhausted.

“I don’t think he’s been sleeping very well,” John replied, stroking Roger’s hand where it was clasping his own, “He- He didn’t really have anyone there to make him feel better, after everything that happened.”

And that pained John more than he had been willing to admit to Roger, knowing how lonely and worried Roger must have felt in those first two days. Lonelier than usual, even though Brian was just a phone call away, because Roger was the sort of person who needed loving words matched up with soft touches and kisses and embraces in order to really feel the impact of them.

“Will he be okay, do you think?” Brian asked.

“He’s always managed before,” John replied, the words slipping out without a thought. For the most part, he didn’t make a huge effort to filter what he said around Brian anymore – he trusted Brian, and he knew Brian trusted him, and the boundaries that remained between them seemed small and temporary.

He perhaps should have broken that news a bit more gently though.

“Has it- have there been… _incidents_ like that before then?” Brian asked, and he was obviously trying his hardest to keep his voice measured, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Even if he had been, John was quick to pick up on the shift in Brian’s scent as he started to worry. “We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.”

Although he appreciated that Brian was giving him an easy out, John didn’t feel the need to take it. Even tinged with worry, Brian’s scent – locked in by the familiar walls of the flat – made him feel safe.

“A few times,” he murmured, “Roger’s always dealt with it, when it’s gotten that far.”

Roger’s face was the same every time. Had been the same when it was Matthew, nearly four years ago now, and had been the same the other night, when it was the alpha whose name John still didn’t know. Whatever alpha, whatever location, Roger’s face was always a frightening mix of fury, and guilt, and frustration, and terror. An expression that was never there – not in that exact combination – in any other situation, but John still knew it too well.

John wondered if he’d get used to Brian’s face in that situation too. Brian, who had looked terrifyingly feral as he threw himself at the strange alpha. Brian, who had only seemed to come back to himself after a full minute of lying on the stage, bloodied and disoriented and still practically snarling with possessive fury.

He hoped he wouldn’t, just as much as he knew he very well might.

“I’m sorry,” Brian murmured, and it was probably the best thing he could’ve said. John had been half-expecting something more along the lines of _‘That’s not right’_ or _‘That shouldn’t be happening to you’_ , which were both perfectly reasonable sentiments, but he didn’t need to hear them. John wasn’t in the mood for thinking about how unfair some things were when he couldn’t change them. It just felt good to know that Brian was there for him.

John pulled back a little, so he could look at Brian’s face.

“I thought maybe you wouldn’t stay, after that,” he admitted, tracing his fingers very carefully over the bruises marring Brian’s cheek, “I think Roger worried about it too. Not because you’re a bad person… Anyone would have had second thoughts after something like that… I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

It was true. He wouldn’t have blamed Brian, but it would have hurt, after all that he’d had to risk in making this thing between them work.

“I couldn’t have,” Brian said, and it wasn’t a quick, hurried response. It didn’t seem automatic. It seemed carefully thought out, but still utterly genuine. More genuine, perhaps, for the fact that he had to take time to consider it. “I – it was frightening, yes. And… this isn’t the best feeling in the world. It hurts like hell, actually,” he said, gesturing at his face with a wistful smile, “But I couldn’t have left. I would have missed both of you too much. I don’t think… It felt painful, being away from you right afterwards. I don’t know how I would’ve coped without those phone calls with Roger, honestly. I really-“

Brian paused then. Like he was going to say something but caught it on the tip of his tongue, and replaced it with…

“I really care about both of you.”

His gaze met John’s as he said it, and John was sure that his face must have been bright red, but he was far more focused on the swell of affection warming his chest as he looked back at Brian. It was surely the mad rush of hormones left over from his heat, but he felt a little bit like he might cry.

Instead of trying to say the same words back, with the risk of stumbling over them like he was seventeen and telling Roger he loved him for the first time all over again, John simply leaned in and pressed their lips together, careful all the while because he was still very conscious of how much pain Brian must be in.

Brian didn’t kiss back like he was in pain, though. He cupped the back of John’s neck the same tender way that Roger did sometimes, and poured so much gentle adoration into the kiss that there could be no mistaking what he had meant to say, but hadn’t been ready for John to hear.

And John didn’t mind much that he hadn’t said it, because he trusted that Brian wasn’t going anywhere. They had time.

They had time, and when those words were said – John thought – he wanted Roger to be awake to hear them too.

\------------------------------------------------------

Perhaps Roger wasn’t the most perceptive person in the world. Certainly, his eyesight was worse than he’d care to admit, and even when he had his prescription sunglasses on, he was in the habit of getting so focused on something  - an argument he was having, or a nice car parked across the street, or John’s smile, or John’s hand holding his, or John’s arse – whatever it was, he would get focused on it and lose sight of everything else.

Still, even for him, it didn’t take long at all to notice that Brian had taken a big step back when it came to physical intimacy.

Brian would still dole out soft, sweet kisses just as often as he had before, and he wasn’t exactly holding back on pulling John and Roger into warm embraces. Rather, Roger noticed that whenever things started to get a little more heated – when the kisses strayed from slow and tender to hot and heavy – Brian would back off almost immediately.

And at first, he’d thought he was exaggerating it in his own head. That his own randy brain – because it had been about two weeks since John’s heat ended, and they were back on the road, and Roger was coming back to the hotel room high on adrenaline each night – was just getting frustrated because they hadn’t gone any further with Brian than the massages a little while back now.

It wasn’t until he saw it happen to John that he was convinced it wasn’t in his imagination.

They were in back at the hotel after a rather successful show – probably the first show since they’d gotten back on tour where they’d truly started to feel comfortable on stage again – and John had gone to kiss Brian almost as soon as they got through the door, moving to press their bodies together only to be knocked back. Gently, mind, but John still looked shocked to be pushed away.

“Bri?” he ventured softly, and suddenly Brian looked very guilty. He stepped closer to John, and dropped a kiss to his forehead, and stroked almost apologetically over John’s shoulder, where he’d pushed him in the first place.

“Sorry. I’m just tired,” he said by way of explanation, but Roger wasn’t entirely convinced. The last time Brian had rebuffed one of Roger’s more heated kisses, it had been the middle of the day, after all.

“Oh,” John murmured, and looked confused all the same, “Okay.” He leaned up, and pressed another - much softer - kiss to Brian’s lips.

Brian had a strange look about him when John pulled away, and Roger saw it as time to intervene. He shrugged his jacket off, tossing it over the back of a chair before stepping over to John and hooking an arm around his waist, pulling him closer to kiss his cheek. It had the rather pleasing effect of seeming to relax John immediately, which made Roger’s chest sing with contented pride.

“You go lie down, Bri, you look exhausted,” he said, “We’re going to grab a shower before bed. I’m sweating buckets after all that.”

And John, who not a minute ago had been looking confused and disappointed, shot Roger a playful little smirk.

“Oh? We are, are we?” he laughed, “I don’t remember being consulted about that.”

“I’m deciding for you. You stink,” Roger teased back, and it was a lie, but it just made John laugh. Showers were nice on their own, but they were also the best work-around they’d found for squeezing in a bit of physical intimacy while they were sharing a bed with Brian, and hadn’t taken that step with him yet.

It wasn’t as if Brian didn’t know exactly what happened in the shower. Before John’s heat, he’d even cracked one or two sly jokes about it himself. So Roger couldn’t imagine that Brian was _annoyed_ at the thought of the two of them doing a little heavy petting to work out the adrenaline of the show, but then that left no explanation for his sudden reaction…

“I’m going to sleep in mine and Freddie’s room, actually.”

The words were quick. Thought-out. They stung more than they should have.

“I just don’t feel a hundred percent, I think I’ll sleep better that way.”

That shouldn’t have stung so much either, but it still did, because Roger was pretty convinced it was a lie.

Roger didn’t say anything, though. It was John who managed to get out a ‘Good night’ before Brian was gone, shutting the door firmly behind him.

In the end, they didn’t go for the shower, heading straight for bed instead. And they were both obviously lost in their own, individual thoughts, so neither of them pressed the other to open up. Instead, Roger stroked through John’s hair, and kissed him nice and slow – so at the very least, John would know Roger still loved him, and still wanted to be close to him.

Not too long after that, John fell asleep.

Roger couldn’t, though. His mind was stuck in a loop of trying to work out what the hell was up with Brian. He tried and tried, and really, he was exhausted from the show, so it should have been easy, but it wasn’t.

It was only after a few hours, when he realised he really, truly, definitely wasn’t getting to sleep, that Roger carefully climbed out of bed – pulling the duvet up over John’s shoulders to account for his own departing body heat. He fiddled with the balcony door in their room for about five minutes before giving up, pulling on a dressing gown and taking the lift down to the empty lobby.

The hotel was eery at night. It wasn’t a particularly nice one, and when Roger stepped outside – fumbling to light the cigarette that he so desperately needed – he was greeted by the sight of dying plants, and flickering lights illuminating the double doors that led back inside, and… Brian. Brian, out in the cold night too, just like Roger but without a cigarette perched between his lips.

He hadn’t seemed to notice that he had company, and Roger just watched him curiously for a moment.

Brian was sat down on the steps leading up to the entrance, hunched over with his folded arms resting on his knees, and his head tipped up to look at the stars, all covered up by smog and cloud. One seemed to twinkle through it all, but Roger thought it might be a plane.

“You’re up late,” he commented, and Brian jerked so violently in surprise that Roger was half-worried he’d fall down the steps and add even more bruises to the fading collection on his face.

“Jesus Christ, Rog,” Brian huffed, steadying himself with one arm gripping the step he was perched on, his other hand pressed to his chest as he turned to face Roger, “What’re you doing up?”

“Could ask you the same question,” Roger pointed out, taking his cigarette between his fingers and offering it over to Brian. He knew the alpha wasn’t really a smoker, but he also knew that most people could be tempted towards it, when they were stressed enough. Brian shook his head though.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Brian said eventually, returning to his original position, with his arms folded and his face turned away from Roger.

Roger sat down beside him.

“Me neither.”

“Well, aren’t we similar this evening?” Brian murmured.

Roger decided to cut to the point, because he was done dancing around it, and it was late, and he wanted the sort of satisfying conclusion to this that would allow him to climb back into bed with John – preferably with Brian joining them this time – and drop off to sleep and not wake up ‘til lunchtime.

“So, what’s got you all messed up recently about touching me and John?” he asked, and Brian hunched his shoulders a little more, like if he did it enough, he could eventually lower his whole body into the ground and avoid the question.

“It’s really that obvious?” Brian asked.

“I thought I was imagining it ‘til I saw you pushing John back earlier,” Roger admitted, “But yeah, it’s a bit obvious. So what’s going on?”

Brian didn’t say anything.

“Is it to do with… Is it to do with what happened? Before John’s heat?” Roger pressed. It hadn’t been the first time, but he still didn’t like to put words to those incidents. If he spoke about them in frank terms like that, then he’d have to accept the equally frank reality of just how bad things would be if it happened again and Roger didn’t react quickly enough, or he wasn’t strong enough.

Brian’s leg bounced anxiously, and Roger knew he’d hit on something.

“What is it, Bri?”

Silence spread out between them, making the chill air seem even more biting before Brian spoke up at last.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Brian blurted the words out, which was so uncharacteristic for him that for a moment, Roger didn’t even process the words he’d said. It was only when Brian let out a shuddery exhale, glancing briefly over to where Roger sat and then quickly looking away again, that Roger realised he was nervously awaiting a response and Roger had no idea what to say. As far as he was concerned, the threat of Brian hurting him or John was non-existent. Brian wasn’t like that. Brian had never been like that.

He didn’t want to be so dismissive to Brian’s face though.

“Why d’you think you’d hurt us?” he asked carefully.

It seemed that Brian taking a good few moments to respond to any of Roger’s questions was going to be a trend that evening.

“I get- I know you probably weren’t worried about me, so much. But do you remember when _that_ happened?” Brian began. He was right, Roger had been so focused on fending off the intruding alpha that he’d barely noticed anything else until the threat was dealt with. He _did_ remember that Brian had been snarling though – he’d been able to hear it as he knocked the other alpha down, and only in the aftermath had he realised where it was coming from.

Roger nodded, letting Brian continue.

“I was out of my head. I didn’t even know what was happening, I was just- I lost control completely,” Brian said, voice strained, like it pained him to talk about it.

“Because John was in danger, right? You were protecting him.”

“Not that I did a very good job of it, but that was the goal, yeah,” Brian sighed, “But it’s not… It’s not the first time that’s happened. Not the first time I’ve lost control.”

He looked like he was waiting for Roger to say something, to spare him for a few moments from having to continue, but Roger couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I’ve – er – I’ve gotten a lot better at it. It’s been a couple of years, actually, since it happened. But a few times, in the past, when I’ve been- When I’ve-“ Brian stumbled to a halt mid-sentence, pressing his face into his hands and groaning for a second. Then, he lifted his head, still not looking at Roger, but from the side Roger could see a carefully steadied expression on Brian’s face. “What I’m trying to say is that sometimes, not in recent history, but sometimes, _sex_ brings out that same side of me. And I thought I was past it, maybe, because it hadn’t happened in a while, but obviously that’s not the case.”

“And when you say the ‘same side of you’, you mean…?” Roger asked, because he had an idea, but he wanted to be sure they were on the same page.

“Violent,” Brian said, and he sounded so frustrated as he spat the word out, “And possessive, and rough, and- and all the things I don’t want to be, I suppose is an apt summary.” He paused, scrubbing his hands over his face again. “I know- we haven’t talked about it, but I know you and John have wanted to take things further and I just can’t- I can’t bear the thought of hurting either of you. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

Roger took a long drag from his cigarette, and did something he didn’t often do – he thought about how he was going to reply, properly thought about it, because obviously this was a big deal for Brian to tell him, and he didn’t want to half-arse his response. So, he let the nicotine filter into his system, and he thought about it, and only after that did he speak up.

“I wouldn’t let you hurt John.”

It seemed that Brian had been expecting that response.

“It wouldn’t happen, not while I’m there,” Roger continued, voice firm with conviction, “So you can go ahead and scratch that worry of your list. I’d happily smash you over the head with a beer bottle too, if I thought you were hurting him, and it’s not because I loved John first or anything like that – because I’d do the same thing if I thought he was hurting you, not that he would – it’s just the fact of the matter. I wouldn’t let you.”

“What about-“

“If you tried to hurt me?”

Brian nodded.

“Then I’d stop you. Or John would stop you, assuming there wasn’t some dynamics thing getting in the way. I know you’re an alpha, Bri, but at the end of the day it’s two against one and – well – I don’t know if you noticed, but alphas aren’t smart fighters when they get all high on instincts or whatever it is. It’s all brute strength, and it’s pretty easy to beat that if you’re smart enough to grab something heavy, or aim for below the belt.”

“You shouldn’t have to do that though,” Brian pointed out, and Roger nodded.

“You’re right. That brings me on to my second point: I don’t reckon I’ll have to. Because we won’t let it get to that point.”

Brian looked at him quizzically, so Roger elaborated.

“Look, you said you’ve not gotten like that in a while, right? And it wasn’t- it wasn’t shagging that got you that way this time anyway, it was something completely different, so I don’t know if we can really compare it,” Roger said, stubbing his cigarette out on the stone steps, because he was doing too much talking to pay it any attention, “But… If we take it slow, we can figure out whether it’s actually something we need to worry about, right? Because it’s not like we haven’t done anything – er- _exciting_ so far, and you’ve never lost it. So as long as we don’t rush into anything, we should notice if there’s anything that makes you – well – lose control. And then we can slow down, if we need to, and figure out how to help you stay in control.”

“That sounds… That’s pretty sensible actually, Rog.”

“No need to sound so bloody surprised about it,” Roger scoffed, gently elbowing Brian in the ribs, “Is that all you were worried about then?”

“Yeah,” Brian murmured, glancing over at Roger, “I know… Maybe it’s hard to understand, but it’s been a big deal for me for- for a while.” He hesitated again, before adding softly, “It’s part of the reason I never tried dating omegas. I thought I never would, actually, before you and John…”

And that struck Roger, because it was so similar to John. John, who had never expected to be dating an alpha, and now found himself falling for Brian along with Roger.

“I think it’ll be fine, Bri. Honestly,” Roger said, leaning over and planting a firm kiss on Brian’s cheek, “Are you gonna come back and sleep in our room, then? Or do you still need a bit of space?”

Brian thought about it for a moment, then reached over and gave Roger’s hand a little squeeze.

“Your room, if that’s okay with you.”

Roger smiled, and squeezed his hand back, and stood up, ready to lead Brian back into the warmth of the hotel and then up to the warmth of their bed – where Brian belonged, as far as Roger was concerned.

“More than okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! I know updates are less frequent now, but I'm so glad to see people are still commenting and you've all been so good about it, I couldn't resist spoiling you with this extraaa long chapter!! Hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Kudos goes out especially to Kt_fairy, whose recent fic (listen to the breeze, whisper to me please) made my day and inspired me to finish this off tonight rather than leave it for Monday!!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos earn you my love and gratitude and virtual hugs!


	22. The Bad and the Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band's relationship with Trident deteriorates. John, Roger and Brian's relationship grows stronger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E (second half only, first half is a T probably)

John cast his eyes again over the schedule Drew had handed them.

He’d quickly grown to dislike meetings with Drew, and it wasn’t just because the band’s financial deal with Trident was screwing them over royally. Drew had a way about him that made John’s skin itch with discomfort, even when he was safely surrounded by his bandmates – who he knew had the same distaste for Drew as he did. Roger especially seemed to really despise the man, though he’d never specified why.

There was something on the schedule that stood out to John as he glanced over it, like a big red warning sign. He’d spotted it right away, in fact, but had been waiting for a suitable point in the conversation to ask what the hell was meant by the neat little line of print reading:

_MR Photo Session (Deacon only)_

“Anything to add, John?”

Brian’s voice drew John out of his thoughts, and also gave him the opportunity he’d been looking for.

“I’m a bit confused by this item,” he said, trying to sound as amenable as possible. Frustrating as it was to deal with Trident, he didn’t particularly want to get on the company’s bad side while Queen were still tied in their contract. “I don’t understand why there would be a photo session with only me.”

Drew wasn’t looking at him like a man who’d just asked a perfectly reasonable question. Drew was looking condescending, and a little exasperated, as if he was anticipating an issue. Honestly, John was starting to anticipate an issue too, despite his initial hope that it had been an innocent misprint in the schedule.

“It’s just some pictures, sweetheart,” Drew began, and John felt his stomach twist uncomfortably, “It’ll only take the morning. And the photographer’s rather good.”

“But why is it only me?” John pressed, the thrum of anxiety rising in him now. He wasn’t too fond of confrontation like this, especially not with an alpha.

Drew’s reply came, smooth as ever: “We thought you’d be the best fit for the theme of the shoot.”

“Which is?” John shot back.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll all be explained when you get there-“

“But I’d rather know in advance.”

“It’s a nude session.” John had been half expecting something of that nature, but his heart still sank. “All very tasteful, of course, nothing full-frontal.”

John didn’t even need to think about his response. He could feel how the energy in the room had changed, could tell that each of his bandmates had a response on the tip of their tongues, but he beat them to it.

“No.”

“I’m sorry?” Drew asked. He wasn’t sorry, obviously. He probably just wasn’t used to omegas rejecting him.

“No. I’m not doing that,” John clarified, almost amazed at himself that he was managing to hold steady eye contact with Drew when he was practically vibrating with nerves.

“Your contract does have a clause about partaking in promotional shoots as seen fit by us,” Drew pointed out, “It’ll be good exposure.” It wasn’t clear whether the pun was intended, but nobody was laughing. Even without looking at Brian or Roger, John could feel them tensed up on either side of him.

It was Freddie who spoke though.

“You’re right, darling, it sounds like an _excellent_ idea to me.”

John couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt a stab of betrayal quite as strongly as he did in that moment. He could hardly believe he’d heard those words come from Freddie’s mouth, and it struck him into silence.

The words seemed to have the opposite effect on Roger, finally prompting him to action. The blond twisted in his seat, hackles raised as he rounded on Freddie with an exclamation of “What the f-“ before Freddie set a soothing hand on his shoulder, and spoke over him.

“I love it so much, in fact, I think we all ought to do it. That would make a rather more suitable promotion for the _band,_ don’t you agree?” Freddie continued, casual as could be, “Why have just one of us when you could have all four, after all? And I see we’re all free that day.”

And John felt the betrayal dissipate just as quickly as it had arrived. And he felt bad for thinking for a second that Freddie would have done that to him. And he felt proud, because Freddie’s response was so _smart._

Sure, it wasn’t the most ideal solution – John still wasn’t hugely keen on the thought of being so exposed in pictures that hundreds of people would see – but it was a neat little way around the contract. And besides, John was sure they could have a bit of a laugh, if it was all four of them stripped down to their underwear, and Freddie would no-doubt distract him from the cold click of the camera shutter.

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Brian said, an edge to his voice that betrayed his own anger, “If we’re all agreed, that is?” His gaze was very much set on John when he asked that question, and John gave a little nod.

“I’d be okay with that,” he murmured, shooting Freddie a grateful look.

Drew didn’t look particularly happy about it, but John cared very little about how Drew felt.

When they finally escaped the awkward meeting just under thirty minutes later – after having signed off on the modified schedule – John made a beeline for Freddie in the carpark, pulling him into a tight hug and not letting go for a good few moments.

For all that he was glad to have found Brian and Roger, John thought, he was just as glad to have found a best friend in Freddie.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

Roger huffed out the words against John’s lips before he kissed him again – it was more a series of deep, breathless kisses than just one kiss, really. That was how Roger liked it, pulling back every few moments just to see John looking a little dazed with desire, lips red and shiny and cheeks flushed a gorgeous pink.

He would never grow tired of seeing John like this. Roger could kiss him ten thousand times – by this point, he’d probably find that he had, if he did the maths – and still want to kiss him ten thousand times more.

The next time he pulled back, he didn’t dive back in straight away though, instead brushing a gentle kiss over the tip of John’s nose and turning to face the other occupant of their bed.

“You good there, Bri?” he asked.

Brian looked better than good; he looked enraptured, and more than a little turned on, even fully-dressed as he was. Really, the clothing situation was rather unbalanced. Roger was down to his boxers, John still had his jeans on – demurring and putting it off every time Roger went to remove them – and Brian was fully clothed.

“Yeah,” Brian replied, voice strained. His legs were arranged so Roger couldn’t really see whether he was hard or not, but his voice gave away that he probably was, as he swallowed thickly and added, “You two look very - er - very nice.”

“You don’t look half-bad yourself,” Roger replied with a wink, returning his attention to John and pressing a kiss to his forehead, but still addressing Brian, “Maybe you should take your shirt off. I wouldn’t mind the view.” John hummed in agreement at that, and Roger couldn’t help but grin, even though the whole atmosphere of the room still held more awkwardness than he would have liked. He supposed it couldn’t be helped, really, at this early stage.

The plan for the evening had seemed rather simple in theory: Brian would watch the two of them, and join in whenever and however it felt suitable. Roger had been rather proud of the idea, honestly, because it tackled two obstacles at once. The first being John’s obvious nervousness about the whole thing – stemming from hang-ups about alphas that he’d still not managed to shake, though he’d been insistent that he _did_ want to do this. And then, there was Brian’s worry of getting carried away – something that was mitigated easily enough if John and Roger were in charge of setting the pace.

In practice, though, it was undeniably a bit tricky to try to focus on two people at once. Especially when Roger was so used to being with John that it was tempting just to fall into that familiar routine and give John all of his attention.

“Rog,” John sighed, a lovely, breathy sound that drew Roger back into the present. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d pressed a thigh between John’s legs, but John certainly had, grinding up against it deliciously.

Roger dipped his head down, trailing his lips wetly down John’s sternum and letting his fingers slip back down to John’s belt questioningly. It seemed jarring enough for John that he lost his rhythm, and looked up at Roger almost nervously. The sight of it was a bit strange, honestly – it’d be years since John had been nervous about sex with Roger, and that had been when they were both seventeen and awkward and scared of parents bursting through the door at any given moment.

“Go on, then,” John murmured after a moment, and Roger was quick to unbuckle John’s belt. He had to shuffle back to actually get John out of his jeans, and as he did, his gaze fell on Brian again. Brian who had stripped off his shirt without fanfare, looking even skinnier without it on, though what was perhaps more striking was the utter focus with which he was watching the two of them. It was undeniably appealing, to feel so desired.

Just as quickly as he’d been distracted, Roger turned his attention back to John. John, who had the strange ability to make even the blandest of standard, white pants look sexy. Roger was sure to show his appreciation of that fact by grinding the heel of his hand over John’s cock through his underwear, smirking at how John and Brian both exhaled sharply, practically in sync.

“Tell me if you want to slow down, yeah?” Roger murmured, leaning down to kiss along John’s neck.

John, for all that he seemed nervous and shy with Brian in the bed, didn’t seem to want to slow down at all. Quite the opposite, in fact – he was the one grinding up against Roger before Roger had even thought to slot their hips together, and it prompted a surprised moan from the blond, though he wasted no time in reciprocating the motion and rocking down against John.

They just stayed like that for a while, grinding leisurely against eachother. Eventually, underwear was peeled off, and Roger used some of the natural lubrication gathering between John’s thighs to ease the slide of skin against skin.

He couldn’t remember the last time they’d done this, and despite it being rather simple, it felt gloriously raw and erotic just to rut against John – a feeling only magnified whenever he glanced over and watched Brian watching them, lower lip caught between his teeth and one hand pressed rather indiscreetly past the elastic waistband of his underwear.

“Roger.”

John’s voice was keening and sweet, and drew Roger’s attention immediately back to him, like a moth to flame. And it took Roger all of about two seconds to figure out what John wanted, with no words needing to be exchanged – he could tell just from the way John shifted against him and hitched his thigh up a little further, and Roger didn’t tease him like he might have been tempted to if they were alone. He reached between them, and hooked two fingers into the slick heat of John’s arse, and moaned as John’s hips jerked up sharply in response– the rough slide of his cock against John’s sending off sparkling, white fireworks behind Roger’s eyelids.

And he’d really hoped to hold out long enough for Brian to build up enough courage to actually join them, but waiting no longer seemed like a very appealing option. Apparently, John was at his limit too, face buried against Roger’s shoulder and lovely little ‘ah ah’ sounds spilling from him as Roger clumsily pumped two fingers into his arse while also trying to keep some kind of steady pace grinding down against him.

In the end, it was John who came first, kissing Roger messily and spilling between them. Roger didn’t last much longer, though, and afterwards he collapsed boneless halfway on top of John, pressing a few wet and lazy kisses to John’s lips as they both drifted down from the lofty heights of orgasm.

Roger did distantly feel the bed shifting, but it was only a few moments later when Brian appeared a few inches away from him – just as Roger had rolled onto his back, one hand still blindly stroking John’s hair -  that Roger figured out the movement had been Brian going to fetch a warm, damp towel.

“Can I?” Brian asked softly, and Roger nodded, sighing at the feeling of the soft fabric dragging gently over his stomach.

“Do you want me to-“ Roger began, glancing down at the boxers that Brian still conspicuously wore. It didn’t look like he was still hard though, and Brian was quick to shake his head.

“No, I – er – there’s no need,” he replied, cheeks flushing a little and Roger grinned.

“Enjoyed the show, then?” he purred, propping himself up on one elbow – even though his body protested, very much just wanting to melt against the bed – so he could kiss Brian softly.

“That would be an understatement,” Brian huffed in response when their lips broke apart, “Sorry I didn’t join in. I know you said I should.”

“I said you _could_. Don’t stress about it, it’s fine. I liked having you here for it,” Roger was quick to reply. He noticed that Brian’s gaze had drifted over to John – John, who was still rather zoned out, like he usually was in the immediate aftermath of sex. Roger was used to it, but he supposed Brian wasn’t.

“Give him a few minutes,” he said, leaning over to drop a kiss to John’s cheek, and John made a contented little humming sound in the back of his throat, “Want me to clean you up a bit?” He only asked because John had seemed nervous about Brian being there earlier, and he didn’t want to make things awkward by suggesting Brian did it if John wasn’t up for that. It seemed he’d had nothing to worry about, though.

“Bri can, if he wants,” John slurred out, inching just a little closer so he could nose into the crook of Roger’s neck.

And it was nice to just lie there. To watch a look of soft adoration come over Brian’s face as he gently wiped John down – so gently, it was hard to believe that Brian was still worried about being too rough with them – and to bask in the pleasantly hazy afterglow of sex.

And when Brian was done, and he settled down on John’s other side, and reached over to link his fingers with Roger’s, Roger was reminded of how all the bullshit – the bullshit that was undoubtedly coming their way, because this thing between the three of them couldn’t stay a secret forever - would be worth it.

It would be worth it for moments like these, when John and Brian looked utterly content, and Roger felt utterly content along with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of you were waiting for this, and it's maybe not quite what you expected for the first time, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!! Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!
> 
> Comments and kudos are my best friend and make my day happier <3
> 
> See you all next chapter~


	23. Two's Company, Three's... (1/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nude photo session with Mick Rock goes both better and worse than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T (some sex references but nothing major)
> 
> Just a short one tonight, but I wanted to post something because I'm going to be a bit quiet until Saturday now <3

“You seem much less nervous than you did the other day, darling.”

John seemed surprised at the comment, eyebrows raising a little which Freddie quickly tutted at – since he was in the middle of brushing some subtle eyeshadow over John’s eyelids, and it just wouldn’t do for things to get smudged because John couldn’t keep still.

“I wouldn’t say I don’t feel nervous,” John murmured, “But I do feel better about it. The photographer seems nice.”

“Good, good,” Freddie replied, “You can open your eyes now, we’re nearly done. You just need a little concealer.”

“What’s that for again?” John asked, sneakily keeping the conversation on its diverted course. Freddie knew that John knew exactly what concealer was for, it was hardly the first time Freddie had applied some to him.

“Usually covering spots and that sort of thing,” Freddie replied anyway, with an air of nonchalance about his voice, “But today you really just need it for _these_.” He smirked as he pointed out the two hickeys on John’s neck – which were mostly covered by his shirt presently, but very soon wouldn’t be.

Predictably, John’s cheeks flushed.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and Freddie scoffed.

“Oh, there’s nothing to apologise for, Deacy, nothing in the slightest. I’m glad things are going well with the three of you,” he said, nudging the collar of John’s shirt down a little so he could start applying the concealer there.

“Yeah… Things _are_ going quite well,” John murmured, sounding a little dreamy. Freddie thought it was awfully sweet – sweet that John had taken so much to Brian, and sweet that John still seemed utterly taken with Roger even though they’d been together a good long while now.

“I can tell. You’ll have Brian writing romantic ditties soon, instead of his usual angsty stuff,” Freddie chuckled, then pulled back. “There you go, all done!”

John turned to look at himself in the mirror, eyes drifting down to where the love bites had been before Freddie covered them up. And he seemed pensive for a moment, but only a moment, and then he was turning back to Freddie, smiling.

“Thanks, Freddie. Do you need help with any of your…” John trailed off, seeming to remember that the very reason Freddie was doing his makeup was because John didn’t have a particular knack for it.

“I’m fine, darling. You go join the others, let them see how delicious you look,” Freddie replied, and John laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling sweetly as he did.

“I’ll make sure they don’t get themselves in trouble, at least,” John said, flashing Freddie another smile before heading off to find Brian and Roger, leaving Freddie alone with his thoughts, and a well-loved pot of kohl.

\----------------------------------------

The three of them had never really verbalised the decision to make things ‘public’. There wasn’t one moment where they decided all together that they were okay with holding hands beyond the closed doors of the flat, and with sharing chaste kisses where somebody other than Freddie might see. The change just happened over time – gradually, and easily – and Roger had found that he liked watching John and Brian being casually affectionate with eachother just as much as he liked being casually affectionate with them.

They’d just finished the photo session, which – true to Drew’s word – hadn’t taken too long, and had been far less awkward than Roger had been anticipating, actually. They owed that mostly to Freddie, whose love for the ostrich-feather props had kept the mood light for the first half, long enough for them to forget that they were all in their skivvies and just relax for the camera.

Brian and John – who had both seemed rather nervous about the shoot, neither of them so used to being half-naked on stage as Freddie and Roger were – had looked pretty damn fetching too, in Roger’s biased opinion.

As Roger wiped his face clean of makeup, he could see the two of them in the mirror’s reflection, Brian with his head tipped down to murmur something in John’s ear that made the omega laugh – and even subtle as it was, Roger could see the hand Brian had lingering at the small of John’s back.

“Your bandmates are cute together.”

The words came totally out of the blue, and it took Roger a second to figure out who was saying them, because it certainly wasn’t Freddie’s voice or something Freddie would say. Roger had thought the four of them were alone in the dressing room, though.

A glance over his shoulder told him that it was the photographer, who must have wandered through from the space they’d been shooting in. What was his name? Mick… Mick something. Roger remembered thinking it was a cool name, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He wasn’t all that focused on remembering the name, in fact, his head too occupied with repeating Mick’s comment over and over and trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to feel about that.

_Your bandmates are cute together._

It wasn’t inaccurate. Brian and John did look cute together. They looked sweet as anything. Despite that, Roger had the overwhelming urge to point out that he was part of that – that it wasn’t just ‘Brian and John’, it was ‘Brian and John _and Roger’_ – but he wasn’t really sure how to say it. He’d never had to explain their relationship aloud before. The only other person who really knew what was going on between them was Freddie, who hadn’t needed an explanation, figuring it out almost as soon as it started and being utterly supportive from day one.

“They – er – yeah, they do,” Roger ended up saying, pursing his lips and moving to get away from the conversation that was making him somehow very irritated, but he was stopped by another comment from Mick.

“Have they been together very long? They had a real chemistry on camera. It was great to shoot.”

That, admittedly, stung quite a lot. Of course, it was good that Brian and John had chemistry, but Roger had chemistry with them too, he thought. Why couldn’t this guy see that?

“Not too long,” Roger gritted out, and found himself standing up without really thinking about it.

Roger didn’t consider himself a possessive person – he’d seen first-hand how ugly possessiveness could be – but something about those comments had rubbed him the completely wrong way, and he needed something to make him feel better. A kiss from John would do, he thought, a kiss shared right in front of Mick whatshisname (who really couldn’t be blamed for not knowing what nobody had told him, but Roger wasn’t feeling entirely rational in that moment).

Brian and John didn’t seem to even notice Roger crossing the room – lost in conversation with eachother – but Roger was quick to make his presence known, feeling gratified when he got up close and the pair finally noticed him.

There was no sense in beating around the bush. Roger just leaned in to kiss John, only to find he’d barely brushed his lips against John’s before he was being gently rebuffed with a hand on his chest, and an embarrassed look.

“Rog, there’s people,” John mumbled, and it wasn’t strictly true. There was one person – and Freddie, who hardly counted – and it just so happened to be the one person Roger really _wanted_ to see this.

It didn’t escape his notice that Brian’s hand was still resting at the small of John’s back.

“Don’t worry about him,” Roger huffed, leaning in again and finding that John still wasn’t letting him get close enough for a proper kiss– because apparently Brian could slip his hand so low that he was practically fondling John’s arse, but Roger wasn’t even permitted one simple kiss because John was bloody embarrassed of him. Because John and Brian being a couple was normal, was expected, and Roger being a part of that was weird and wrong.

And that probably wasn’t it at all. But it felt that way, in the moment. The stab of hurt that shot through Roger was immune to rational thought.

“Roger-“ John began, clearly noticing that something was up, but it was too late. Roger had hit his breaking point.

“ _Fuck this,_ ” he snapped, and both John and Brian looked shocked at the outburst which – to them – must have seemed to come out of nowhere. Roger couldn’t even look either of them in the eye. He just turned on his heel and stormed out, letting the buzz of frustration and hurt and anger overtake his mind.

Behind him, the door slammed shut with a satisfying bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! And sorry for leaving y'all hanging, I promise they'll get a nice, soft resolution next chapter <3
> 
> I mentioned in on tumblr, but I'm so wowed that this fic is at over 600 kudos now!! That's crazy!!! I hope y'all know that I appreciate every kudos and comment, it really keeps me motivated (I think this is the longest fic I've ever written now)!
> 
> Until next time ;)


	24. ...Even Better (2/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Brian try to fix things. Roger nearly makes things worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T

“He took the car…”

What pained Brian almost as much as seeing how confused and upset John looked was the way he was trying – and failing – to hide it. They were stood out in the car park – John having followed after Roger almost immediately after he left, with Brian following suit – and sure enough, the spot where Roger’s car had been parked was now empty.

“He might have just wanted to go home,” Brian reasoned, reaching over to give John’s hand a squeeze, “It’s okay, there’s enough space in my car for us and Freddie.” John didn’t squeeze his hand back. He was still staring at the empty parking space, looking lost, but saying nothing. The scent of his distress was rolling off of him in waves though, unceasing and nauseating.

“You had no way of knowing he’d get so upset, John,” Brian continued, softer now, because he suspected that was at least part of the issue. Roger had stormed off because John had refused to kiss him – which seemed a bit ridiculous out of context, but Brian was sure there was some deeper reason for why that had upset Roger as much as it did. He was sure of that, just as much as he was sure that it wasn’t John’s fault.

“He’s never just left like that before,” John said finally, “He’s never… Not without saying where he was going.”

There was a pause, where Brian really didn’t know what to say. He cared deeply about Roger, but he didn’t know him as well as John did; if John didn’t know where Roger had gone or why he was acting so strangely, Brian had no chance of figuring it out.

“Is everything all packed up?” John asked after a minute, finally glancing up at Brian, “If we can, I’d like to just- just fetch Freddie, drop him off home, and just get back to the flat as quickly as possible.”

“Yeah, of course,” Brian replied quickly, bringing John’s hand up where he was still grasping it gently, and pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “Do you want to wait in the car?”

John nodded, attention still half-diverted towards the empty parking space, so Brian passed him the keys.

“I’ll be back down in a minute,” he said, “Don’t- Don’t beat yourself up over this too much, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong, we’ll figure out what’s got Roger so upset but… Don’t think it’s your fault.”

John held his gaze for a moment, and then glanced back down at the ground, and nodded – which didn’t do much to convince Brian that John believed him, but it’d have to do for now.

He headed back up to collect Freddie, mind still racing.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

It had been ages since Roger had flirted with a woman - properly flirted, beyond just playful comments that slipped out and never really meant anything. The last time he had, he’d been a teenager, still in school, and still utterly unaware that he was slowly falling in love with his best friend.

Despite that, when the brunette across the bar made eyes at him for the tenth time in half as many minutes, the whole routine of it came back just as easy as breathing.

It probably helped that Roger was about four drinks deep, and working his way through a fifth. He began making his way over to the other beta, not really thinking about what he was doing.

The bar wasn’t one he came too often. Namely because it was the sort of bar people went to when they wanted a quick shag and a cheap drink, not the sort of place for people in loving, committed relationships. It had seemed a good place to come though.

After escaping the location of the photo shoot, Roger had driven aimlessly for nearly two full hours – burning through petrol that, frankly, he couldn’t afford – then parked up at a rest stop and done nothing in particular but let himself get too introspective about things, before finally driving back to his block of flats. And just looking up at the building had made him feel sick, because what if Brian and John weren’t there? What if they’d given up on him, and gone back to Brian’s place to be alone together – because why would they need Roger, when they had eachother?

So the bar had seemed the sensible place to go. A good way to drown his sorrows and feel good about getting attention from people for a while – even though he’d realise when he was sober that those people didn’t really care about him. Not like John and Brian did.

With more confident bravado than he actually felt, Roger leaned against the bar next to the girl who had been eyeing him, and wasting no time in asking: “What’re you drinking, then?”

“Rum ‘n coke,” she replied, almost as if she’d been expecting the question, and Roger waved the bartender over to order her another. “I’m Becky.”

“Roger. D’you study around here?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m doing my apprenticeship for hairdressing.”

“Oh yeah?” Roger asked, smirking, and it was easy. It was so easy to flirt with another beta, because he understood what was happening – even tipsy as he was – and there were no hidden depths to the interaction that he was blind to, no scents or unspoken rules rooted deep in the dynamics involved. Just good, old-fashioned flirting. “What do you think of my hair, then? Any good?”

“Not bad,” she replied, and something about the coyness in her voice reminded Roger of John.

His stomach turned a bit, and he ignored it.

“Reckon you could do a better job with it?” he asked through the growing nausea.

“Maybe… I’d have to get a closer look,” Becky replied, and the air had shifted noticeably. It didn’t escape Roger’s notice that the two of them were about ten inches closer together than they had been at the start of the conversation.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Roger found himself saying on autopilot.

“D’you live nearby?”

Those were the words that finally jolted Roger out of the situation and back into the reality of wondering what the _fuck_ was wrong with him. Because yeah, he did live nearby. He lived nearby in the cosy little bedsit he shared with John, with the cheap plywood wardrobe and the lumpy mattress that Brian shared with them almost every night now, when they weren’t touring.

And for all that he feared going back to that flat to find that John and Brian had left him on his own, that didn’t really rival the fear of going back with Becky on his arm only to find that they _were_ there, and having to witness the hurt on their faces.

Becky was still speaking, apparently not picking up on Roger’s discomfort: “It’s just that my place is a bit of a trek, so if your-“

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, actually,” Roger said quickly, clearing his throat as Becky’s expression slid from surprise to confusion, to something like annoyance, “Sorry. Just remembered I’ve got an early morning tomorrow, I should…”

And he didn’t finish his explanation, already halfway turned around and heading towards the exit, because suddenly he was itching to see John and Brian. Even if they were going to reject him, he needed to see them.

Roger stumbled out into the chill of the street, and disoriented as he felt, he knew the way home well enough. It was only about fifteen minutes away – that gave him fifteen minutes to figure out what the hell he was going to say if Brian and John _were_ there, and how the hell he was going to hold himself together if they weren’t.

He didn’t truly know which of the two possibilities scared him more as he began to walk home.

\-------------------------------------------------

John hadn’t really said anything for the past hour.

He knew it was freaking Brian out a little bit, but he just couldn’t think of what to say. He’d already thrown out every possible solution he could think of for finding Roger – everything short of calling the police, who probably wouldn’t see it as a big deal anyway – and now he was just stewing quietly in his own worries. Thoughts of where Roger might be, what he might be doing, _why_ he’d been so upset in the first place.

The current, predominant worry in John’s mind was that Roger had gotten into a car accident. It wasn’t even very far-fetched. Roger loved getting behind the wheel of a car, and when he was upset, few things seemed to help him work through his frustrations more than driving around at high-speed. It was a habit that worried John to no-end, when he let himself really think of how dangerous it was.

Brian’s hand soothed over his back, and John let out a shaky breath. He didn’t want to look at his watch. He knew it was late. Knew he’d been sat like this, curled up in Brian’s lap, for ages now, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away. At least Brian brought some stability to the whole situation.

Soon, they really would just have to go to sleep. John was worried, of course, but he knew well enough there wasn’t much that could be done, and staying up through the night wasn’t going to help. If he could bring himself to sleep, which he was a bit doubtful of, then he probably should.

Then, John heard the click of the front door unlocking, and all other thoughts promptly dropped out of his head. He was out of Brian’s lap in an instant, hurrying to the door and when he saw it open, and Roger step through – looking rumpled and tired and upset but all in one piece, at least – John felt his relief so intensely that he had to pause for a second just to steady himself before closing the distance separating him from Roger.

“You arse,” John huffed, and there was no venom behind the words, “I was worried about you. Are you okay? What happened?” The words all came out a bit muffled, because as soon as he was close to Roger, John had thrown his arms around the other man, and his face was now pressed against Roger’s shoulder. Roger’s scent, though subtle, was still comforting.

Roger wasn’t saying anything, which was wholly uncharacteristic, but he _was_ hugging John back. That was something, at least.

“Do you want to sit down, Rog?” Brian asked gently from behind them, and John didn’t see Roger nod, but felt it. Honestly, he was a bit reluctant to let go, but he did, waiting ‘til the three of them were sat on the bed – Roger in the middle – before moving to hold Roger’s hand. Roger wasn’t really looking at him, though, or at Brian.

“I nearly went home with some girl,” Roger blurted out once they were all settled, and it was the last thing John had been expecting to hear. It was so strange that the reality of the words – the meaning behind them – didn’t dawn on him for a good few moments, even as Roger continued. “I went- I was out at this bar, and we flirted a bit, and I- I _didn’t._ Nothing happened. But I still feel like shit about it, because I know neither of you would ever fucking do that, and I did, and I didn’t even have a bloody reason to do it because you’re both _here._ ”

It was a lot to process.

It was a lot, because the thought of Roger cheating had never even crossed John’s mind. And he believed Roger when he said nothing had happened, but it was clear that something could have happened. That for a moment, perhaps, Roger had wanted something to happen. John just couldn’t understand _why_ , because until that morning, Roger had given no indication that he was anything but utterly content with how things were going in their relationship.

Apparently, Brian was having the same thought.

“Why though, Rog?” the alpha was asking, voice gentle still, his hand resting on Roger’s knee, “John and I… We talked about it, and neither of us could figure out what got you so upset at the photoshoot.”

Roger – who was already tense – tensed up a little more at that. When he finally replied, it was soft, and nothing like Roger’s usual tone of voice.

“I don’t belong with you two.”

That stung. It stung more than the confession from a few moments ago, even.

“What do you mean?” John asked - couldn’t help himself from speaking, even though his voice sounded pathetic and shaky.

“You know… You know how when it was just us, people always assumed we were only friends?” Roger began, looking over to John at last. John did know. It had always bothered Roger a bit more than it had bothered him, but never enough to actually cause any major issues.

“It’s just that now… Now people see you two, and you’re this great couple,” Roger pressed on, “And I’m not part of that. I mean, I am, but you wouldn’t know it. And then on top of that you two have this- I don’t know how to describe it, you just _get_ eachother more. You have all these senses I don’t have and even though I’ve known you for ages, John, sometimes I feel like Brian still knows you better because he didn’t have to spend years and years figuring out all this dynamics stuff. And we’ve known Brian the same amount of time but you just… You already know him better. Even before _this_ started, you knew what was up with him and I didn’t, because I’m out of the fucking loop and everyone can bloody see it. Everyone thinks you’re so good together – because you are – but nobody sees me as part of that and it’s just shit, okay? It’s shit. That’s why I’m upset.”

There was a pause, as Brian and John both took in all of what Roger had said.

“Did Mick say something?” Brian asked, voice still so calm somehow. It was a sensible theory too, John realised, because Mick had been the only person in the room besides Freddie when this whole thing had started. And it would explain, then, why Roger had been so upset to not get a kiss from John. Because he’d wanted to prove that he was part of their relationship too, and what more obvious way to prove that? Of course, that was the strategy that someone direct and to-the-point like Roger would go for.

Sure enough, Roger nodded glumly.

“None of that’s true though, Rog,” John said, shifting closer to Roger so he could wrap his arms around him again, “People might think it, but we’ll know they’re wrong. Isn’t that what matters?”

“I guess,” Roger sighed, and it wasn’t exactly the response John had hoped for, “I don’t know, it was only one little comment, I probably overreacted. I just know it’s not gonna be the last time I have to hear it and- Fuck, it hurts, even though I know it shouldn’t.”

John knew that feeling. He’d had plenty of disparaging comments made about him, and his choices in life, and he knew he shouldn’t care about words said by people who weren’t important to him in the slightest, but it always still hurt.

“Me and John know now though,” Brian said, and it was only then that John realised the alpha had shifted closer, so that he was pressed closer to Roger too, “So we can make you feel better about it, if it happens again.”

That was all they really could do, John supposed, because there was no way of stopping people making comments.

“Yeah?” Roger murmured, and John had to hug him tighter when he heard how small and uncertain Roger’s voice sounded.

“Of course,” he replied, “I- If I’d known what was up today, Rog, I wouldn’t have acted how I did. Y’know, I was just embarrassed, not because it was you, it would’ve been the same with Bri.”

Roger just nodded, relaxing more into John’s embrace, and it made something in John’s chest soften with affection. He loved Roger. With Brian, there was still that lingering hesitation over the true nature of his feelings, but with Roger, there was no doubt. John loved him. John never wanted to lose him, especially not over something so insignificant as other peoples’ opinions of them.

The conversation petered out after that, Roger apparently feeling comforted enough by those words to calm down, and have a glass of water when it was offered by Brian.

It was late when the three of them finally fell asleep, with Roger in the middle – a position John suspected he would be occupying for the next few nights at the very least, until he started to feel properly better. And it was a bit too warm, but John still kept his arms around Roger as he dozed off, unwilling to let go of the one true anchor he’d had all of his adult life – the anchor it felt he’d come frighteningly close to losing that night.

John felt confident that between the three of them, at least, nobody was seen as any less valued. For now, that would have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't stop myself, even though I said it probably wouldn't be updated 'til Friday or Saturday, I just couldn't NOT write the resolution of that cliffhanger. Thank you for reading!! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated a lot, as usual <3 <3 I'm persistently stunned and flattered by the love y'all give this fic


	25. It Hangs Over Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie knows something has happened when the boys show up in the studio acting strangely. He just doesn't know what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M (references to sex in dialogue, but nothing overly explicit)
> 
> CW: general & non-specific non-con references that come part in parcel with this universe. If you were okay with stuff in previous chapters, you'll be fine with this.

Freddie knew the moment he walked into the studio that something had happened.

There was a certain, unique energy that came from recording with three people who were in a relationship – one which Freddie usually thrived on, not least because he cared dearly for his friends and liked how happy they made eachother. The issue was that if something happened in that relationship – even something small – it essentially threw off the energy of the whole group.

Like that moment, for instance, when Freddie walked in – admittedly, about thirty minutes late – it was to the sound of Roger messing around with his cymbals, looking frustrated and lost as he glanced between John and Brian, who were at opposite sides of the room pointedly not looking in the other’s direction, busying themselves with whatever busy-work they could lay their hands on. The tension in the air was so palpable that Freddie felt he’d walked into a fog of it, barely able to breathe for how uncomfortable it felt.

Roger, at least, seemed happy to see him.

“What’s that, half an hour this time? That’s pretty good for you, Fred,” Roger commented, the jovial tone in his voice obviously a little forced.

“Why thank you, Rog, I’m glad to have earned your approval,” Freddie teased back.

“Maybe next time, we’ll get it down to ten.”

“Oh, now let’s not get unrealistic, darling,” Freddie chuckled. In the time they’d been speaking, John had wandered over, giving Freddie a rather weak excuse for a smile, but Brian had still barely acknowledged what was going on, apparently lost in thought.

Freddie opened his mouth to say something about it, but Roger – who was smarter than people gave him credit for, especially socially – gave an almost imperceptible, panicked shake of his head. And of course, Freddie was frightfully curious, but he didn’t want to make things worse, so instead of asking what the hell was going on, he settled for:

“Well, time’s a wasting! Shall we get down to playing something?”

Roger’s relief was palpable.

“Yeah… Yeah, we need to start on Black Queen today,” he said, appearing to hesitate before calling over, “Bri, did you hear that? We’re doing Black Queen.”

Brian didn’t show much of a reaction, just nodded slowly, and grabbed his guitar.

Freddie was _dying_ of curiosity, but that would have to wait. They had music to make first.

\----------------------------------

“Well, that was a load of shit, wasn’t it?”

Freddie honestly hadn’t expected to hear Roger’s voice. He’d very deliberately gone off somewhere a bit quieter during their earlier-than-planned lunch break because he’d expected John would seek him out for a chat. That wasn’t to say that Freddie _minded_ talking to Roger, though.

“Not you, mind, I thought you sounded great,” Roger continued, dragging a chair over so he could sit facing Freddie, and slumping down on it, “I just couldn’t get my head in the right place. And John and Bri sounded like they were playing two different bloody songs.”

“It was a bit terrible, wasn’t it?” Freddie replied with a sympathetic grimace. Still, the morning hadn’t been totally wasted – after about an hour, they’d all wordlessly acknowledged that instrumentals just weren’t happening for the time being, and Freddie had recorded some isolated vocals. “So, are you going to tell me what happened, or do I have to go pester one of the others for all the gossip?” Freddie asked.

Roger’s face worked its way through a series of expressions, before settling on something akin to frustrated worry, and sighed.

“Christ, Fred, if you can get them to talk about it, then you’re a fucking miracle worker, because they aren’t saying a bloody word to me,” Roger huffed, and it was obvious in the way he spoke that he was more worried than annoyed, and more upset than genuinely angry. For all that Roger tended to express himself through harsh words, he was rather sensitive, Freddie had come to realise – especially when it came to matters involving John and Brian.

“Well, what’s got them both so…?” Freddie waved his hand rather than completing the question, because he honestly couldn’t find a suitable word to describe John and Brian’s odd behaviour.

Roger just groaned.

“That’s the issue, I don’t even know what happened,” he sighed, “We were- Well, the thing is, we haven’t _actually_ slept together yet.”

Freddie decided to be polite and act mildly surprised, even though he already knew that much from John.

“I guess I should say, we hadn’t,” Roger continued, “No, wait. Me and Brian _hadn’t._ John and Brian still haven’t. It’s a bit confusing, okay, but that’s not important. So, I’ve been dropping hints for a while and last night me and Bri finally got around to it.”

“And how was it?”

“It was – er… It was pretty good, actually,” Roger replied, and for a moment the worry dissipated from his face, and he was just smiling a fond, lopsided smile, “I think he was a bit nervous but he didn’t need to be, ‘cause it was good.”

Freddie couldn’t help smiling a little too, and he felt bad to ruin Roger’s mood again by asking: “So if the sex was good, what’s the issue?”

Sure enough, Roger’s smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Right… So, it was going really well, and then – I think because he was nervous, maybe, and he was holding back a bit – I was done and Brian wasn’t yet. And I offered to give him a hand-job or something, y’know, it’s only polite, but then John wanted to join in, and I was pretty out of it anyway, so I…” Roger trailed off, squinting like he was trying to remember something, but couldn’t quite, “Well, honestly, it was a really good shag so I was a bit out of it afterwards, and I wasn’t really paying attention, and then next thing I knew John was freaking out.”

Freddie winced. That didn’t sound good. “Freaked out how?” he pressed, and Roger dragged a hand over his mouth wearily.

“I don’t know. One second, he and Bri were making out a bit, and then John just shoved him off and went right back up against the wall and- and Jesus, I feel shit about it, because I promised Brian I would stop him if he ever got carried away in bed or anything like that, and there I was not even paying attention.”

“Is that what happened, then?” Freddie asked, “Brian did something?”

He couldn’t imagine it, really. Freddie had never seen Brian be anything but exceedingly gentle with the people he dated – even Tim, who had clearly not been so up for the gentle treatment.

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. John just went and took a shower afterwards, and Brian went for a walk, and I thought maybe it’d just sort itself out because they both came back to bed eventually but then when I woke up this morning they were like… well, they were like they’ve been all morning,” Roger replied, “I don’t know what to do, Fred.”

Freddie honestly wasn’t sure either. It wasn’t so long since he’d barely understood what John being an omega even really meant, and for all that John had confided in him since then, he still wasn’t much of an expert. Freddie knew that he couldn’t just leave the situation as it was, though, when it was eating into their studio time, and when his friends all seemed so miserable about it.

And then, the obvious solution came to him.

“Well, darling, it seems like it’s probably an issue that neither of us are fully qualified to understand,” he began, and Roger nodded in agreement, “So really, we need John and Brian – the two people who _do_ understand what happened – to talk it out.”

“Yeah, but what if they don’t? Brian’s freaked out because he thinks he did something awful, and John’s… I don’t know, but when he decides he doesn’t want to talk about something, he’s pretty bloody good at keeping his mouth shut,” Roger pointed out, and Freddie patted him on the shoulder, smiling a little.

“Give them some time, Rog. They’re big boys, I’m sure they’ll figure it out sooner or later,” he said, “And if they don’t, we can give them a nudge in the right direction.”

Roger hesitated for a moment, then sighed, and nodded.

“Yeah, I guess.” A pause. “I just want them both to be comfortable with eachother…”

And Freddie felt for Roger, he really did. He knew that for all that Roger loved his two boyfriends, things had been undeniably simpler for him when it was just John.

But Freddie really did have no doubt things would work out for them, because he saw the way they all looked at eachother. Things would turn out fine, in the long run, he was certain of it.

They just needed to get over this little bump in the road.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

_“I just want them to be comfortable with eachother…”_

The words rang in John’s ears as he made his way back through to the control room, barely looking where he was going, his thoughts all focused on the snippet of conversation he’d overheard.

John hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Really. He’d just been looking for Freddie – hoping to have a much-needed chat – only to find that Roger and Freddie were already mid-conversation, both deeply engaged enough that they apparently hadn’t noticed John’s head popping around the doorway and then quickly retracting. He hadn’t heard much; he still felt guilty about hearing it though – he knew how mortified he’d be to find out either Brian or Roger had overheard one of _his_ conversations with Freddie, after all.

Still, the words lingered in John’s mind. He couldn’t shake them.

_“I just want them to be comfortable with eachother…”_

John wanted that just as much as Roger did, and he was sure Brian did too.

It was just admittedly a bit more difficult than he’d anticipated. Brian hadn’t even done anything _wrong_ last night. In fact, it had been quite nice, just kissing – though it perhaps couldn’t be called ‘just kissing’ when Brian had been naked and John had been clad only in his underwear and they’d been grinding up against eachother leisurely. John had liked it, because it hadn’t felt like there were any expectations of where it had to go, and the heady scent of Brian’s pheromones had made him feel just as shivery and pleasant as the sensation of Brian’s lips against his.

And then Brian had shifted – just slightly – and pressed a little more of his weight down against John, and suddenly it hadn’t been Brian cupping his cheek and kissing him warmly and making John feel achingly good. It had been an alpha, pinning him down against the bed, and John hadn’t been able to get away fast enough.

He shuddered at the memory.

Even afterwards, when he’d realised what a silly thing he’d massively overreacted to, he hadn’t been able to calm down enough to apologise to Brian and reassure him that it wasn’t his fault. He’d just hidden himself away in the shower for thirty minutes, and not looked Brian in the eye when he’d eventually emerged.

John sighed, and diverted his course, no longer heading for the control room, but rather for the exit. That was where Brian would be, he knew, because Brian always went outdoors when he had a lot on his mind.

Much as the idea filled John with nervous dread, he knew that he and Brian had to talk this out.

Sure enough, when John stepped out of the studio and into the slightly tepid midday air, Brian was there. There was really no chance of sneaking up on the older man; no matter how quiet John’s tread, Brian was just as tuned into John’s scent as John was to his, and would know he was approaching from that alone. That was how John knew that Brian’s decision to stay facing away from him was deliberate, rather than a by-product of not having noticed John was there.

It stung a little bit.

“Hullo,” John greeted softly, and he didn’t miss the way Brian’s shoulders tensed up. Brian’s scent radiated discomfort just as much as his body language.

“Are we starting back up again already?” Brian asked, glancing at his watch.

“No. No, I just thought I’d come out to have a chat.” As if to verify his words, John moved to sit beside Brian on the steps that led up to the door.

Brian seemed even more uncomfortable to have John sat so close to him. On top of that, he wasn’t saying anything, just staring fixedly ahead. There was something oddly familiar about the look on his face that John couldn’t quite place.

John fidgeted for a moment, before speaking up again.

“I’m really sorry about last night, Brian.”

“You- Please don’t apologise for that,” Brian said, and his voice sounded pained. John hated it. He wanted to shuffle closer and close to space between them and wrap his arms around Brian, but he didn’t think that would be very welcome right now.

“I don’t mean that I’m sorry for… For stopping things,” John clarified, glancing over at Brian, “But I should have talked to you afterwards, instead of just disappearing off like that and making you jump to conclusions that probably aren’t true.” Brian was still looking straight forward, but he was frowning just a little bit now.

There was a stagnant pause before Brian spoke.

“I was taking things too fast.” It wasn’t what John wanted to hear. It was exactly the sort of conclusion John had been worried Brian would jump to.

“No, you weren’t,” John said. It was true. The pace had been fine. John had been kissing Brian back just as eagerly as Brian was kissing him, responding with enthusiasm to everything Brian did. Even if there _had_ been an issue with the pace, Brian certainly couldn’t have been expected to realise that in the moment, given that John had been practically urging him on.

“Then what did I do?”

Hearing the strain of Brian’s voice made it finally click in John’s head exactly why the look on Brian’s face seemed so familiar. It was the exact look he’d worn all those months ago, when they’d been talking in the van, and John had first realised that Brian’s feelings were probably more than just friendly.

He didn’t want Brian to feel that guilt again, but it also wouldn’t have been fair for John to lie about what had set him off last night.

 “It was the – er – the position,” John admitted softly, “With you on top. And there’s no way you could’ve known, because Roger does that and it’s fine and it’s just… I should have anticipated it, really. It’s just a bit much, for now. Feeling- feeling pinned down like that, with the scent and everything. It’s just… I don’t know, I can’t describe it… But I don’t want it to be some big deal, because I _will_ get over it. I just- I just can’t do that right now.”

John dared to glance back over at Brian when he was done talking. He’d not been expecting much of a change, so he was a little surprised to realise Brian had turned to look at him. And the older man still looked upset, but now his expression was more one of empathy, with a little affection mixed in.

“Okay,” Brian said, and John got the feeling that there was more Brian wanted to ask, but he didn’t. John was glad for it. He’d have the conversation, if it was one that they needed to have, but delving too deep into the reasons _why_ he’d panicked so much wasn’t really something John wanted to do right before heading back into the studio.

“We can just make sure you’re in my lap, or on top of me or something next time,” Brian continued, a little awkwardly, but John appreciated it the reassurance. It still astounded him, when he really thought about it, how easily those sorts of allowances came to Brian. How Brian would happily let John take the lead a bit just to make him more comfortable, even though most alphas would hate it, would see it as undignified and unbecoming of their status.

It was those sorts of things that made John certain that he would get over these hang-ups eventually. Because Brian wasn’t like other alphas - there was no reason to be nervous of him. John’s brain just needed a little time to catch up with what his heart already knew.

“Thanks, Bri,” he murmured, hesitating a bit before leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to Brian’s cheek. It was a pleasant surprise when John moved to pull back, and Brian stopped him gently – just with a hand at the back of his neck, giving John plenty of room to pull away if he wanted – and then kissed him, soft and slow.

And ten minutes later, when they walked back into the studio bumping shoulders and smiling softly at eachother, Freddie and Roger didn’t even pretend to hide their surprise.

Roger did smile though, after he was done looking shocked, a lovely and radiant thing. And John felt content again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Boy oh boy this one took me a while because I had writer's block up the wazoo all day, I just kept writing and writing and then scrapping thousands of words at a time and completely changing the plot. The first draft of this chapter wasn't even remotely following the same plot. 
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos make my heart happy <3 Thank you once again for all the love and support you've shown this fic, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	26. An Interlude of a First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mini-flashback to Roger and Brian's first time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: A few people I think were a bit disappointed that last chapter skimmed over Roger and Brian's first time. I had written something up for it, but I just wasn't very happy with it, hence skimming it over! But after reading people's comments, I decided to brush up what I did have written into the chapter you see below. Full disclosure, I'm still not 1000% pleased with it and I would say that this is a bit of a skippable chapter if you're not interested in reading it. But for those of you who asked for it, I hope this fits the bill! Apologies for anybody who was disappointed to have it skipped the first time 'round.

“You really don’t mind?”

It seemed Brian was rubbing off on Roger, because that must’ve been the fifth time Roger asked exactly that question.

“I don’t mind, Rog,” John repeated. Repetitive as the conversation had gotten, he did like this – just cuddling up to Roger on the sofa, talking about things and sharing the occasional, gentle kiss. The fact that ‘things’ here really meant ‘their sex life with Brian’ didn’t phase John so much as it probably would have a few months ago. He was getting used to talking about it, at this point.

“I just don’t want you to feel like we’re leaving you out,” Roger sighed, brushing a few soft kisses along John’s jawline, “You don’t feel like that, do you?”

“No,” John reassured him, stroking his fingers through Roger’s hair, “I think it’ll be nice to watch.”

Roger smiled at that, an almost mischievous thing that seemed to totally replace the worry that had been written across his expression moments before.

“Yeah?” he murmured, voice low and sultry, and John rolled his eyes.

“Not now, Rog, it’s the middle of the day.”

“That’s never stopped us before,” Roger pointed out. He was right. John hated that he was right.

“Keep it in your trousers ‘til tonight,” John replied, more firmly this time, and then promptly kissed away Roger’s ridiculous pout.

\---------------------------------

It wasn’t as if Brian hadn’t _known_ Roger was attractive. Of course he’d known.

He’d even known that Roger looked good naked – from the times when he’d watched Roger and John together in bed, and from last night, when he’d jerked Roger off and been unable to stop staring at him the whole time because Roger was so unfairly gorgeous.

Brian had known then, but somehow tonight, Roger had a whole different charm about him. Perhaps, that was just because Brian knew what was coming.

“Enjoying the view?”

Brian realised abruptly that he’d been staring down at Roger and not really doing much at all. He went to apologise, but instead what came out was:

“You’re so beautiful.”

And Brian flushed right after he’d said it, because it sounded so corny, but Roger didn’t seem to mind. He just beamed, bright and sunny, and tugged Brian down for another kiss.

Of course, kissing didn’t stay just kissing for long. They were already both stripped out of their clothes, and Roger didn’t wait long before he was rolling his hips up sensuously, one of his legs hooked around Brian’s to make the angle better. Brian was pretty sure if Roger kept that up for much longer, neither of them would last, because the slide of his dick against Roger’s felt beyond heavenly as Brian’s lips drifted down to Roger’s jawline, and Roger moaned unabashedly.

Still, Brian resisted the urge to let loose completely – to grind down against Roger as hard as he wanted to – and distracted himself by glancing over at John, who sat cross-legged up against the headboard. Compared to Roger – who was flushed and sweaty and looked like sex on legs – John looked rather sweet - still wearing his pyjama trousers, and hunched forward a bit as he watched the two of them. As John apparently noticed Brian’s shifted attention, he waggled his eyebrows at Brian and Brian smiled a little as he focused back on Roger, lips finding the sensitive spot just under Roger’s jaw again.

“Fuck, if you keep doing that, then this isn’t gonna last very long,” Roger huffed out, fingers digging into Brian’s shoulders as Brian pressed his hips down again – slow and teasing. It was worth it – even though he was dangerously close himself – to see the way Roger’s eyelids fluttered closed for a moment at the sensation. Roger gave a responding upwards thrust of his hips, and Brian actually had to pull back then, because it was verging on too much.

Roger looked almost disappointed until he saw that Brian was reaching for the lube that had been rather indiscreetly set on the bedside table.

“Is it okay if I- er…” Brian hesitated, realising that – despite the fact that they were currently naked in bed together – some strange mental block still wouldn’t let him just brazenly ask if he could finger Roger.

It didn’t help that the whole picture before Brian was like something out of a lewd fantasy: Roger laid back on the bed, one leg bent up at the knee - giving a lovely view of his cock where it lolled against his thigh, flushed pink and wet at the tip – and his elbows propping him up a little so he could look directly at Brian, utterly unashamed. It could’ve been a shot out of a dirty magazine, if it wasn’t for the ridiculously fond expression that Roger was also wearing, something far too intimate for any magazine – something meant just for Brian, in that moment.

He couldn’t help but lean down and kiss Roger again, even though it made it almost impossibly awkward to lube up his fingers, because he couldn’t see what he was doing and he had to use an elbow to keep himself propped up. Still, Brian managed it eventually, and relished in the way Roger moaned shakily against his lips as Brian pressed two fingers against Roger’s entrance – not pushing in yet, just rubbing a little, realising Roger hadn’t actually replied to his unfinished question earlier.

Brian found he didn’t need to ask again, though.

“Go on,” Roger urged, lips meeting Brian’s for a desperate but brief kiss, “Been thinking about this for so fucking long, Bri, _please._ ”

The words alone were enough to have Brian groaning low in his throat, but he resisted the temptation to rush. He took his time, slowly sliding just one finger into Roger – and relishing all of the lovely, high moans he could draw from Roger just from thrusting one finger in and out of him – before adding a second, and then taking even longer before adding a third.

It wasn’t even nerves that made Brian take his time. It was just that he’d always liked this part - liked spending ages making his partner fall apart. Some of the men he’d been with before had complained about it – Tim came to mind, and was immediately brushed away – but Roger didn’t seem annoyed. He just rocked down beautifully against Brian’s fingers, and arched his back and panted out breathless little moans, one hand clutching tightly at Brian’s shoulders and the other clawing at the bedsheets. And each time Brian did something that Roger particularly appreciated – when Brian twisted his fingers, or bent them a certain way, or sucked one of Roger’s lovely pink nipples into his mouth – Roger would keen out Brian’s name.

“Fuck,” Roger huffed against his shoulder, giving a whole body shudder that Brian felt because they were pressed so close together, “Oh, fuck, I knew you’d be good at this.”

“Yeah?” Brian murmured, feeling a little more confident now for the number of times Roger had moaned his name.

“Arse,” Roger laughed, the sound trailing off into another moan, “God, I’m ready if you are, Bri, I’m so fucking ready.”

Brian hesitated, the nerves that had dissipated suddenly flooding back, as if they’d never left at all.

“You’re sure?” he checked, and Roger nodded hurriedly, pressing his forehead to Brian’s shoulder as Brian’s fingers apparently hit a sensitive spot, and he shuddered again.

“Yeah,” Roger murmured, then looked up at Brian with soft eyes, “Look, Bri… If you’re not- If you’re not ready, it’s fine. I won’t be pissed or anything, we can do something else and I’m sure it’ll be great. But I want this, if you do. I really really want it.”

The little speech was so earnest that it took Brian aback for a second, and Roger – for all his confidence – seemed to falter the longer Brian didn’t say anything in response.

Brian settled for just kissing him, to begin with. Because he wanted to, and because he was sure Roger probably wanted to, and because it satisfied the itching need in him to be touching Roger as much as possible.

“I want to,” Brian murmured when they broke apart, still cupping Roger’s cheek, “Is it okay like this?” he asked, gaze flicking down to the position they were in.

“Yeah,” Roger replied breathlessly, chasing Brian’s lips for another kiss, “Yeah, like this is good.”

Not too many words were exchanged after that. They didn’t need them.

It was far from perfect. It took Brian a few attempts to actually press inside of Roger, but that was worth it for how good it felt, and for how Roger gasped and tipped his head back and held tightly to Brian’s shoulders when he finally did manage it.

And it wasn’t special in any obvious way. Brian just rocked his hips forward, steady and measured, and they stayed pressed close to eachother as they made love. They shared a few long, deep kisses, but more often than not Roger just had his face pressed against Brian’s shoulder as he panted out lovely little moans of pleasure with each thrust.

In fact, the whole thing was probably a bit cliché. But it didn’t have to be special or perfect in any objective sense for it to be special and perfect for Brian, which it most certainly was.

He didn’t even care in the slightest that Roger finished well before him, tangling a hand into Brian’s hair and kissing him desperately as he climaxed between their stomachs. Brian wasn’t even particularly surprised that it happened, because he had been half-focused just on trying not to slip into a more instinctive frame of mind – something that had been growing steadily more challenging as the scent of John’s arousal became thicker in the air – and focusing on that made it hard to really get lost in the pleasure of it all.

But Brian didn’t care. He really didn’t feel anything but wonderfully content as he kissed Roger through his orgasm, slow and tender, and pulled out, and then kissed him again. And when John asked afterwards if he could join in a bit – leaving Roger to catch his breath and have a bit of a rest – Brian couldn’t imagine a better way to end the night.

So of course, he said yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! 
> 
> Ah please go easy on me in the comments, because I'm really not sure about this one, but I felt like I should post *something*. Hopefully the next chapter will be up in a few days, and there's some stuff in that that I'm really excited about.
> 
> OH ALSO if y'all want to join a Queen discord server, this is one I'm in that is welcoming new ppl: https://discord.gg/A6jqFXp


	27. Read All About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queen II tour gets off to a shaky start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E (just the first section is explicit, the rest sits around a T rating)

Roger watched through half-lidded eyes as John and Brian kissed – slow, and lazy, and still ridiculously hot. If Roger hadn’t been so worn out from riding Brian for nearly twenty minutes, he definitely would have been turned on by the view.

Brian had one hand resting at the small of John’s back, the other cupping his cheek as their lips moved together slowly, and it made Roger smile a little to see how sweet they were together. John seemed to be far more comfortable taking things further with Brian now that the two of them always made sure John was on top – something which John had quietly explained to Roger a little while after he’d apparently had the same conversation with Brian – and while John still hadn’t gotten to the same point Roger had with Brian, nobody was particularly concerned about it.

“Yeah…  Yeah, okay,” John murmured, and Roger realised he’d been so distracted by the view that he hadn’t heard whatever question John was responding to.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what Brian had asked, though, when his hand then drifted down lower, cupping John’s arse gently before his fingers dragged up the cleft of it, making John shudder bodily and sigh against Brian’s lips.

Roger suddenly didn’t feel very tired anymore, and propped himself up on an elbow so he could see properly as Brian took his sweet time just stroking his fingers over where John was no-doubt wet and open, rubbing teasingly but not pushing in yet. John didn’t seem to mind in the slightest – rather, he seemed to be enjoying the slow pace, kissing Brian just as slowly and arching into his touch.

When Brian finally did slide his fingers into John, it became obvious that he’d paid attention when he’d watched Roger and John together, because he started with two, just like Roger did – because once John was in the mood, he liked the stretch, and he could take it easily.

Sure enough, John moaned against Brian’s lips, rocking his hips back as Brian’s fingers slid out and then pressed back in. Roger knew from experience that Brian was good with his fingers – had suspected as much even before they’d started sleeping together – and John apparently agreed with Roger’s judgement. It wasn’t too long before John gave up on kissing, just burying his face against Brian’s neck and making these lovely, breathless moans.

Although they were taking it slow, it was still only a few minutes before John was rolling his hips a little more clumsily, his thighs trembling, and his eyes pressed shut – all obvious indicators to Roger that John was edging towards orgasm. Sure enough, a few seconds later, Roger watched as John shuddered and spilled over Brian’s stomach, with Brian’s name on his lips.

Brian looked so bloody fond when John collapsed against him, still shivering a little, nuzzling against his neck and catching his breath. In fact, the look on Brian’s face was more than just fondness, Roger realised slowly. It carried an emotion beyond what any of them had actually admitted to feeling yet – except John and Roger, who had first said those words when they were just teenagers, and hadn’t stopped feeling that way since.

Roger couldn’t help shuffling over, dropping a gentle kiss to John’s cheek, and then one to Brian’s.

And when Brian turned to face him, wearing that exact same look of more-than-just-fondness, Roger felt like his chest might burst from how happy it made him.

**\---------------------------------------------------------**

John twirled his pen between his fingers as he looked down at the neatly typed questions on the paper in front of him.

The first couple were easy enough.

 **Name:** _John Richard Deacon_

 **Date of Birth:** _August 19 th, 1951_

John had scrawled in the answers for those as soon as the nice lady from the magazine had handed out the papers – because he was so used to writing those things on forms by now that it felt almost automatic. The next question was another that he was used to, but he was a bit more hesitant to fill it in.

 **Dynamic** : A / B / O

He didn’t have to write it in, just had to circle the right answer, but part of John wished he didn’t have to even do that, because he knew that it would colour how people interpreted the rest of his answers.

A glance over at Roger and Brian told him they were getting on just fine, all dutifully scribbling away on their respective papers.

John grimaced, and quickly circled the O, and moved on.

The questions were a bit weird, actually, when he really thought about it. He didn’t read many music magazines, but he’d nosed around Roger’s collection, and he was sure they didn’t usually ask this stuff. Still, he filled it out dutifully, if a little sarcastically.

**Height & Weight: ** _5’11”, 136lbs_

**Relationship Status:** _In a relationship_

**First Kiss** : _My mum (on the cheek)_

**Ideal Date:** _Any bank holiday_

**Ideal Partner** :

John hesitated at that one. He tapped the pen against his lower lip, and thought about it for a long moment, but every answer he thought of seemed… risky, to say the least.

“Rog, Bri, what did you write for the question eight?” he asked.

“Vegetarian,” Brian replied, and that was a bit weird – especially considering neither John nor Roger were vegetarians – but John didn’t really read into it too much until Roger replied too.

“Sushi, I put.”

John frowned. It was fair enough for one of them to have put a bit of a weird answer, but both of them? That wasn’t a coincidence.

John scooted closer to Roger, and glanced over at his sheet of paper.

And his stomach sank. Roger had an entirely different set of questions. No mentions of first kisses, or dates, or partners or even relationship status, just normal sorts of questions about his hobbies and what foods he liked and what music he listened to.

John could feel his cheeks flushing, even though he knew logically it wasn’t his fault, he shouldn’t be embarrassed. It was the people from the magazine who had written the questions, the people from the magazine who had decided John being an omega meant he couldn’t answer normal questions like the rest of the band, the people at the magazine who only wanted to define him by his love life. Still, the thought of having any of that published, knowing that none of the others had had to answer it, was humiliating – though John didn’t want to make a fuss, and get them bad press before they’d even really started to get press at all.

Roger and Brian evidently noticed the shift in John’s mood.

“What’s up?” Roger asked, and John wasn’t sure why – because he hadn’t even written anything incriminating – but he quickly flipped his own question paper over so they couldn’t read it.

“My questions are different,” he mumbled after a moment and then, seeing that his partners apparently hadn’t cottoned on, he added, “I think it was deliberate. They’re all… They’re all _romantic_ sort-of questions.”

For a second, John did worry that the other two might think it wasn’t such a big deal, and that he was overreacting. That worry was quickly wiped away when he saw twin frowns on Brian and Roger’s faces, though Brian’s was a little more reserved, while Roger looked furious.

“Romantic? Are they joking? It’s supposed to be a bloody rock and roll magazine,” he huffed, glancing back down at his own questions as if to confirm they were all still normal. And then he glanced over at the turned-over piece of paper on John’s lap, and John could see that Roger was itching to know what it said. So he sighed, and pushed the paper over to Roger, who just scowled more as he started to read, muttering a lot of words under his breath that mostly sounded like ‘bullshit’ and ‘dickheads’.

Meanwhile, Brian – who had been staring off into space a bit, still frowning mildly – suddenly turned to face John again.

“If you want us to make a fuss about this, you know we will,” he said, and the way he said it entirely gave away the fact that Brian knew John wouldn’t want to make a fuss about it. John shook his head anyway.

“I don’t, really. I don’t want them to write something horrible about us because I wouldn’t answer... And it’s just some questions,” he sighed, and Brian nodded, leaning across Roger briefly to press a kiss to John’s forehead.

“Right then. Back in a second,” he murmured, leaving John and Roger to exchange slightly confused glance as Brian stood up and left the little room the three of them had been left in while Freddie had a proper interview.

Not a minute later, Brian was back, brandishing a fresh sheet of paper with the normal questions printed on it. John gave him a questioning look.

“Told ‘em that Roger made a load of mistakes and needed a new one,” he said by way of explanation.

“Oi, why didn’t you say you cocked _yours_ up?” Roger protested, and Brian just shrugged as he handed John the new set of questions.

“Had to make it believable, didn’t I?” Brian replied, and John couldn’t help but laugh at that, stifling the sound with the back of his hand when Roger shot him a look of mock-betrayal.

John crumpled up the old sheet of questions – stuffing it in his pocket to be thrown away later – and shifted to press a little closer to Roger as he began filling in the new sheet.

**\--------------------------------------------------------------**

It wasn’t so unusual for Roger to hear people calling John a slut.

He hated it, of course, it made his blood boil every time he heard it, but he was somewhat used to it.

What he wasn’t used to was showing up to a gig – the first proper show of their new tour – and having the word hurled at John by about a dozen different people before they’d even stepped into the venue. There was a small crowd gathered outside – with signs and everything – apparently _protesting_ the performance, or more specifically, John’s involvement in it.

Roger hadn’t expected it in Blackpool, of all places. Maybe somewhere a bit more stuck-up like Cambridge, but certainly not bloody _Blackpool._

It broke Roger’s heart, though, to see John – who had been all smiles and laughs in the car – now looking nervous and upset, gazed fixed on the ground. It broke his heart, and it made him furious, because who were these people to judge John when the only thing they knew about him was that he was an omega?

Brian obviously felt the same way – his lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes burning with anger as the four of them were ushered inside, past the small crowd.

And the show went fine. They played well. John played well, even though he was obviously still upset. The whole thing just felt soured by what had come before it, and even though that feeling slowly faded as they went out drinking afterwards, and then eventually retired to the hotel room – with John cuddled up between Brian and Roger – it still lingered as an unpleasant memory.

It was the first time something like that happened during the Queen II tour, but it certainly wasn’t the last. Their tour manager got rather good at checking ahead and clearing out any protestors before the band arrived, but they still sometimes had stragglers shouting abuse at them.

And things were bad enough when all people really knew was that John was an omega, and he was unmated. What the hell would they do – Roger wondered – if they knew the full truth? Because the three of them weren’t exactly subtle. They didn’t try to hide their relationship, rather, they just didn’t see the need to mention it to the press, and always redirected the conversation back to music.

Of course, as their success grew, they couldn’t really expect that privacy to last.

**\--------------------------------------------------------**

“And I have two of their members here with me today, in fact!”

Roger gnawed on his lower lip as he listened to the tinny voice of the radio host. He honestly wasn’t keen on not being there with John in that interview, but it was just how the schedule had fallen – it was more efficient to split the band up for promotional efforts while they were on tour, allowing them to cover more ground.

At least the timings had fallen in such a way that allowed Roger to listen in. He was in the car with Freddie as the segment aired, both of them listening intently.

“Let me welcome Brian May, lead guitarist for Queen, and his bandmate, John Deacon.”

Beside him, Freddie snorted. “And of course, John plays no instrument at all,” he said sarcastically. It was a comfort to know that Freddie felt just the same way as Roger did about that rather naff introduction.

The first half of the interview was pretty boring, honestly. Brian and John – but mainly Brian – answered all the standard-fare questions: when was their next gig, had they enjoyed their stay in Glasgow so far, was the tour going well, when did they expect to release their next album.

It was only after one of their songs was played – Seven Seas of Rhye, the usual choice – that things started to veer quite suddenly in an unpleasant direction.

“So, Brian, what made you and the others decide to have an unmated omega in the band?”

Roger’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Of all the bloody questions… And addressed to Brian, too! They didn’t even have the decency to ask John about his own life choices.

“He’s right there, you know, you could ask him,” Brian pointed out rather bluntly, “But to answer the question, John and Roger both auditioned at the same time, and we thought they had a good sound, so we asked them to join the band.”

“So, you deny the allegations that all of this is a cheap promotional tactic?” the host pressed.

“Who’s alleging that?” Brian asked, obviously irritated at this point, “Of course I deny that, because it’s ridiculous. John’s in the band because he’s bloody good. His relationship status should have no bearing on that. Look, if you’re not going to ask about the tour, then I think we ought to leave.”

“It just seems rather unusual that the two of you and your bandmate Roger Taylor are often seen sharing a hotel room, and yet you’ve not officially mated.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and Roger hated that he wasn’t there.

Then, the silence was cut short by a rustling sound. It quickly became clear that it was the sound of Brian and John, getting up and leaving just as Brian had threatened to do. The host made a weak effort to try to stop them, but obviously was delighted by the drama of it all.

“Well, there’s no official statement, listeners, but I must say that actions do speak louder than words. What do you think, though? Should we allow this sort of shameless behaviour in-“

Roger reached over and switched off the radio, unable to listen to that drivel any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! This is the first of two chapters I have planned with this sort of style (just snippets that are quite spaced out chronologically). I hope you enjoyed this one!
> 
> As I mentioned last chapter, if you wanna chat about Queen stuff, feel free to join this discord server: https://discord.gg/A6jqFXp (Maylor lovers) or this discord server https://discord.gg/uhfZYXv (tumblr queenies make do). They're both chill af
> 
> As usual, comments and kudos make my day and make me smile <3


	28. Red, White, and.... Yellow?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The American leg of their second tour is good for Queen commercially. Personally? Not so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M (the fourth section definitely has elements of an E-rated section, but I would put it at an M just because that's not really the focus or where it ends up. Still, if that makes you uncomfortable, perhaps skip the fourth section).
> 
> CW: Sickness

Arriving in America was terrifying and thrilling all at once.

Mostly terrifying to begin with, because their flight suffered from some rather severe turbulence, and John really wasn’t used to flying. They’d been briefly to Australia on the last tour, which had been an arduous journey to say the least, but at least it had been a rather smooth and routine flight.

John supposed he’d have to get used to international travel, though.

Despite the stressful flight, when they arrived at the airport in Denver, Roger seemed completely in his element. Unlike John and Brian, Roger had actually dressed nice for the journey, and he looked like a real rockstar striding through the airport – with his sunglasses and his tight trousers that Brian seemed to be admiring just as much as John.

“You’d think he was expecting a crowd of adoring fans outside baggage claim,” Brian said, leaning down so he could murmur the words lowly in John’s ear. John snickered.

“Roger’s always expecting a crowd of adoring fans,” John replied, “He’s got us, I suppose.” John did half-suspect that the reason Roger was walking a few strides ahead of them was less to do with impatience, and more to do with him wanting his lovers to appreciate how his arse looked in the trousers he was wearing – which must have been uncomfortable to wear for so long on the plane. It was working, though.

“True,” Brian murmured, smiling just as fondly as John was, “How’re you feeling?”

“In general? Okay,” John replied with a shrug.

“Well, that’s good. But I meant about this. About America,” Brian persisted, and that was less of an easy answer. For the band, America represented opportunity – a chance to hit it big internationally. For John, America represented a country where he was regarded with even less respect than he was back home, and where the laws were far less supportive of his right to perform alongside his bandmates. In the end, it had only really worked out because Queen were a foreign band, and so the rules were relaxed just a touch.

“I suppose we’ll have to see how it goes,” John replied eventually, “It’s good, though. For Queen.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I’m glad we got the opportunity to come.”

“Mmhm.”

“I am… I’m a bit nervous, though, honestly,” John finally conceded with a sigh. Brian sighed as well.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

At least as they walked out of the airport, they had the lovely view of Roger to distract them from everything else.

**\------**

“Could you shut him up?”

Brian was just stunned for a moment. Utterly stunned. He’d only been half-way paying attention to the alpha in front of them – a sound technician at the Kansas City Memorial Hall – because Brian had a bit of a headache, and because he knew anything electronics-related was more John’s field of expertise. In fact, he’d been almost entirely zoned out until he heard those words. The request was directed at Brian, even though he’d barely been paying attention of participating in the conversation thus far.

“Excuse me?” Brian said, because what else could he say? He’d heard the words, but he couldn’t fathom how the man had had the nerve to say them. Because it was obvious he’d been talking about John. The sound tech had cut John right off mid-sentence to make the horribly obnoxious and rude request.

John, meanwhile, looked mortified – in stark comparison to how he’d looked moments ago, when he’d been rather animatedly explaining what sort of set-up they usually employed.

“Look, the guys upstairs told me this whole _omega thing_ was your gimmick,” the man began, and Brian felt ill for reasons entirely unrelated to his headache, “But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stand around and let him tell me what to do, okay? I don’t know how it works in England, but that won’t fly ‘round here.”

Roger and Freddie looked about ready to tear this guy to pieces by now, but Brian knew that wouldn’t do. They weren’t even the headlining act at this gig, they couldn’t really afford to kick up a huge fuss, no matter how furious he was.

As calmly as he could manage, Brian asked: “Don’t bands usually talk to you about what set-up they need?”

The guy was starting to look uncomfortable. Good, Brian thought, he certainly deserved it for how uncomfortable he’d made John.

“Well, yeah, but-“

“So why is this different? John knows what he’s talking about better than any of us,” Brian said, voice starting to get a bit snappish.

Unfortunately, it seemed the sound tech had gotten past being bewildered at Brian’s anger, and was getting stubborn again.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know why,” he retorted, folding his arms, “Look, I’ll talk to one of you about it, but today ain’t the day when I’m gonna start taking orders from an omega. Every other sound guy here’ll tell you the same thing; you’ll just have to get used to it.”

“Like hell we will,” Roger snapped, apparently finally having reached the limit of what he could just sit back and listen to. Brian practically winced, because he _had_ been attempting to find a resolution that wouldn’t make playing at the venue nigh on impossible. He could hardly blame Roger for his response, though. “You can fuck right off if you think we’re disrespecting John just to stroke your bloody ego,” Roger continued, practically spitting the words out, “We’re leaving.”

And Roger said the words with such finality, that whether they had agreed or not, it seemed the rest of the band all felt equally compelled to follow along as Roger marched out. It didn’t escape Brian’s notice that John still looked miserable, staring down at the floor as they made their exit.

And once they were outside again – and Brian was wondering what the hell they were going to do about the gig that night, because being dramatic was all well and good, but they really did need some sort of sound set-up – John was surprisingly the first one to speak up.

“I think I’m going to go back to the hotel for a bit,” he mumbled, not looking any of them in the eye, “If- If none of you mind.”

“I’ll come with you,” Roger said quickly, and Brian desperately wanted to go with them. Wanted to shut out the world and hold John until he looked happy again. But he knew somebody had to deal with the venue, and Freddie would probably only cause more trouble if left alone.

Brian’s head throbbed again, and he tried his best to ignore it. It would be fine, they’d figure it out.

John would probably be feeling better about it all in the evening.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

“You don’t have to do this, Rog,” John mumbled into the pillow.

Roger couldn’t have disagreed more.

“I’m not letting that dickhead ruin your day,” he replied firmly, stepping over to shut the curtains of their hotel room – leaving only the dim glow of the bedside lamp illuminating John, who was lying on his stomach, face buried in a pillow, looking just as miserable as he had when Roger first glanced over at him.

“I should’ve known better than to assume he’d be okay with me explaining it all,” John said, voice still muffled by the pillow, “I could’ve just written it all down for one of you guys to read out, like we used to.”

It hurt to hear John apologising for the confidence he’d slowly built up during their last tour. The confidence that Roger adored, and desperately wanted to nurture.

“You shouldn’t have to do that,” Roger insisted, moving to sit next to John on the bed and nudging up the hem of his shirt, “Sit up a bit so I can take this off?”

John lifted himself up the bare minimum that he needed to in order to get his t-shirt off, then slumped back down on the bed as quickly as he could. It had still been enough time for Roger to see the tear tracks on his cheeks, but he didn’t mention them.

“I know I shouldn’t have to,” John sighed, “But- but what if they mess up our sound now, you know, in retaliation? I shouldn’t be ruining things for everybody just because I want… Because I want something that’s not realistic.”

“You know none of us feel that way.”

“But _I_ feel that way, Rog,” John huffed, then glanced over as Roger grabbed the massage oil – a staple item when they packed for tours – from the bedside table. “Shouldn’t we be getting ready for tonight…?”

“You’ll play better if you aren’t so wound-up,” Roger replied, “Don’t overthink it, okay? Try to let go a bit. I’ll make sure we’re on time.”

John looked doubtful, but after a moment, he apparently decided it wasn’t worth protesting, and buried his face in the pillow again.

Roger didn’t say anything as he started the massage, just taking things slow and easy, giving John time to relax – and it didn’t escape Roger’s notice that John took far longer to relax into his touch than usual. It happened eventually, though, John melting into the bed and sighing.

Roger took that as his cue to start speaking again.

“You’re so smart, you know,” Roger said, keeping his voice soft so it wouldn’t ruin the atmosphere, “When you do your thing with sound equipment… I don’t think I even understand it enough to know how smart you are for being able to do it.”

“Rog…” John murmured from beneath him, but it wasn’t an unhappy sound, so Roger pressed on.

“And you’re talented too, obviously. I wouldn’t be half as good up on stage if I didn’t have you to bounce off of.” He punctuated the words by pressing a few gentle kisses along the top of John’s shoulder. “It kills me that people don’t see that about you sometimes, John, but it’s all true.” He pressed another kiss to the back of John’s neck. “And I see it.” John shivered at the next kiss. “I see it, and I’ll be gutted if I don’t get to see that anymore because this some shitty comment made you feel bad for being who you are.”

The whole speech felt a little sappy, looking back on it, but it had come from the heart, and it was all stuff Roger wanted John to know. Besides, even if John thought it was naff, he wouldn’t be able to deny that Roger still gave a bloody good massage.

For a minute, the words just hung in the air as Roger continued massaging John’s back, ‘til John’s muffled voice caught his attention.

“Rog? Can I- Can I get up, now?”

It caught Roger a little of guard, but he shuffled away so John could sit up, and then was a little surprised when he suddenly had John’s arms wrapped around him, and John’s head buried against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” John mumbled, hugging Roger closer, “I love you.”

And it was good to hear, even though Roger already knew it. They didn’t say those words so often these days, since they hadn’t said them to Brian yet, and so it always felt a bit rude to say it to eachother in front of him. Still, Roger couldn’t get enough of hearing it, or of saying it back.

“I love you too.”

He still wanted to go back to the Memorial Hall and punch that sound guy in the face, though.

**\--------------------------------------------------------------**

John made a lovely, lilting moan as Brian rocked his fingers deeper, shifting a little in Brian’s lap, his breath delightfully warm against Brian’s neck.

Nothing had been said directly, but for the whole tour, Brian and John had been slowly edging closer and closer to going all the way. Brian knew John had noticed as much too, because he’d overheard – only briefly, he’d left upon realising what he was hearing – John talking to Freddie about it. Specifically, John talking to Freddie about what sex with an alpha was like.

All of that just made Brian feel worse for the fact that – while he’d been rather turned on when John first climbed into his lap – his arousal had dissipated rather quickly over the past minute and been replaced with another bout of tiredness. He seemed to be tired and achy all the time, recently.

It wouldn’t take John long to realise either, Brian knew. John would catch the scent of it, and probably be dreadfully understanding and sympathetic (but Brian would still feel bad).

Sure enough…

“Bri, is everything okay?”

Beside them, Roger was looking concerned too now.

Brian grimaced a little, and pulled his fingers out to wipe against the sheets, and buried his face against John’s shoulder because he couldn’t look him or Roger in the eye.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Tired again?” John asked softly, and Brian nodded. It was persistent, and unavoidable, and terribly frustrating when touring was a rather strenuous activity. Not to mention that half the time, even first thing in the morning, his muscles felt horribly stiff too, like he’d just run a marathon.

“It’s okay,” John murmured, hand stroking through Brian’s hair. Brian could still catch the lingering vestiges of arousal in John’s scent, quickly fading. He groaned softly.

“If you two want to-“ Brian began, and John cut him off.

“No, it’s fine. We can just go to bed,” he said gently, and Brian finally dared to glance up, gaze meeting John’s soft eyes. “It’s probably for the best. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Don’t stress about it, Bri,” Roger said, leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to Brian’s cheek.

Still, Brian didn’t sleep well, despite how nice it felt to have John and Roger cuddled up on either side of him, and despite how exhausted he felt. He had a sinking feeling in his gut that was half nausea, and half the nagging worry that this whole thing was more serious than just a side-effect of the touring lifestyle.

He couldn’t bring himself to worry Roger and John with that idea though, so he kept it carefully to himself.

**\---------------------------------------------------------------**

John had known the encore was a bad idea.

The whole show had been a bad idea, honestly, they should have called it off first thing that morning when Brian had woken up and then had promptly run off to vomit into the toilet. At the very least, they definitely should have stopped things when Brian started turning yellow – because John didn’t remember much about biology from school, but he knew what jaundice was, and he knew it was usually indicative of something quite serious.

All of this had been going through John’s head, but Brian had insisted it was probably just food poisoning, and had insisted on pushing through – despite John and Roger’s protests – and so they’d done the encore.

It was only a bare few minutes after they’d come off stage that Brian collapsed – his skin clammy with sweat when John rushed to his side, and his scent acrid and bitter with pain, strong enough to make John wince and feel a little sick himself.

And John was used to feeling helpless, but this was somehow worse, because it was _Brian_ who was in danger _._ Brian, who cared for John and Roger so much that he still tried to reassure them after he’d collapsed from all the pain he was in. Brian, who cared for the band so much that he’d ignored his own obvious illness because he didn’t want to ruin the American leg of their tour. Brian, who John loved, despite all the years John had fought tooth and nail against the idea of being with an alpha – who John loved, even though he hadn’t had the chance to say as much to Brian’s face yet.

They drove back to JFK airport with Brian halfway passed out in the back-seat of the car, and John held onto Roger so tightly that he thought he might break something. And when they arrived, Brian could barely walk to the gate without leaning on John, still looking so ill that John was worried they wouldn’t let him on the flight. John didn’t even cast a final glance back at American soil as their plane took off.

Arriving in America had been terrifying and thrilling.

Leaving America, though, was just terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this lil rollercoaster ride of a chapter!
> 
> People on discord knew this was coming ;) If you want to check out some cool Queen discord servers, check the notes of the previous chapter.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated very much! I'm overwhelmed by the support this fic gets, and the lovely comments y'all leave <3


	29. Darker Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian's sickness gets worse before it gets better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M
> 
> CW: Illness and hospitals. See end notes for more detail.

Things were no less frantic once they arrived back in England.

They’d all stayed in the hospital waiting room on that first night, despite the nurses saying that nobody would be allowed to go in to see Brian until the next morning at the very least. Then, the next morning, visiting Brian had still been forbidden, but there had at least been some limited information on what was wrong with him.

“Hepatitis?” John repeated. He’d heard the word before. He had no exact idea what it meant. “Is it serious?”

“It varies,” the doctor replied, “In Brian’s case, yes, it seems quite serious, in part because it seems to have gone untreated for so long. That brings me to my next point. You said the three of you work closely together?”

“We’re in a band, yeah,” Roger replied, voice scratchy.

“In that case, you should all be looking to get inoculated, just to be on the safe side. It’s not easily spread just through friendly contact, but it doesn’t hurt to be safe.”

John saw Roger’s expression shift just as his own did.

_Friendly contact_. Roger, John and Brian had shared far more than just friendly contact. And while they hadn’t done much in the past month – since Brian had been rather persistently tired and unwell – the doctor had said earlier that Brian had likely contracted hepatitis a while back, and it had just taken some time for the symptoms to present in a serious way.

“How about through other types of contact?” Roger asked, and John hated that – even when all of his worry should have been for Brian’s health – there was still a part of him now rather concerned with how this doctor would react to what was inevitably about to come to light.

It was at least a small blessing that the doctor immediately seemed to catch what Roger was implying.

“Sexual contact, you mean? In that case, there’s a more – eh – considerable risk. Blood tests would definitely be warranted,” he replied, “Are you and Mr May…?”

“Yeah,” Roger replied quickly, and with no hesitation added, “And John too.”

John could have cried with relief when the doctor was polite enough not to question it. He knew dealing with that would have been too much when his ears were already ringing and his head already felt fuzzy from the realisation that things could actually be worse than they already were – because while John and Brian hadn’t gone all the way yet, Roger and Brian certainly had.

John felt like he might be sick over the squeaky hospital floors. He clung tighter to Roger’s arm.

Distantly, he could tell Freddie was saying something, but he didn’t hear it.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“If it does come back positive, I don’t want to tell Brian. Not right now.”

It wasn’t exactly Roger’s idea of good pillow talk, but it was all that was on his mind as he lay back in bed, John pressed close to his side. Even though it was a bed they’d shared for years before Brian came along, it felt oddly empty without him now.

“He would want to know,” John mumbled, though his tone suggested that he still agreed with Roger.

“I’ll tell him as soon as he’s feeling better. But right now, I don’t know if he’d even understand, and even if he did, he’d just beat himself up over it and he really doesn’t need that,” Roger continued. Even though he suspected John agreed, he still wanted to say the words aloud, just for his own peace of mind.

They’d only had the blood test earlier that morning, and weren’t due to find out the results for another week, but Roger already felt a terrifying suspicion of what the results would be.

Before they’d gone in for testing, Roger had been reassuring himself with the fact that John – at least – was probably fine. After all, what he’d done in bed with Brian didn’t seem to be enough to spread anything.

Then, when Roger had been in his own appointment – separate from John, though he really hadn’t wanted to be apart – the slew of questions about his sexual history had brought on the dawning realisation that John wasn’t protected by virtue of not having slept with Brian.

Because John had been sleeping with Roger. Roger, who could have been infected by Brian months ago without any of them realising it.

He’d felt so ill at the prospect that he hadn’t been able to share it with John. John was probably smart enough to have figured it out for himself already, anyway.

Roger only realised they’d been lying together in silence for a good long while when John spoke up again.

“Do you mind if I put some music on? I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep,” he murmured, and Roger nodded – feeling John’s absence viscerally even when the younger man had just gotten up to put on a record. John kept the volume low on the record player.

After no longer than two minutes, John was nestled up by Roger’s side again, and Roger buried his face against John’s neck again to scent him.

Homely and warm, like clean linen.

If John was sick too, Roger thought, he couldn’t possibly forgive himself.

\--------------------------------------------------------

Both tests came back negative.

Roger and John couldn’t really celebrate – neither of them were in the mood for it, with Brian still so ill in hospital that they’d only been allowed to visit him for the first time yesterday – but they did share a long, relieved embrace.

And then, they’d received a phone call from Trident asking when they would be ready to discuss next steps.

John had never heard such a colourful stream of swear words as what Roger shouted into the phone then. He couldn’t blame Roger, though. It was the last thing on either of their minds to go back on tour, or back into the studio - not when there was still the sickening fear that Brian might not be returning to play with them for the foreseeable future.

_Or ever,_ an ugly little voice in John’s head supplied. He quickly squashed the thought.

Things would work out.

Things had to work out, because these days, John felt like he needed Brian just as much as he’d always needed Roger.

The idea of losing either of them just didn’t bear thinking about.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Things got worse before they got better.

It seemed whenever they visited that Brian tried to put on a smile, but it was always gone when they went to step out of the door, and John would give one last glance back at Brian before leaving. He always saw the same thing when he did – Brian, stuck in a hospital bed and staring at the ceiling with sad, resigned eyes.

This time, Brian wasn’t even trying to act happy when John and Roger arrived.

“Hey, Bri.” Roger was usually the first to speak. John appreciated that. “It’s good to see you. Sorry we couldn’t come by yesterday. Apparently they were doing tests or something all through visiting hours.”

“Yeah,” Brian replied, and his voice sounded almost painfully raw, like he’d been sobbing before they arrived, “Yeah, they were.”

John couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He’d been feeling particularly sensitive all morning at the thought of seeing Brian – and he knew it was because his heat was now less than a week away, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. Didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that Brian was going to be left without either of them for company just because John’s hormones had awful timing.

Instead of speaking, he reached over to gently link his fingers with Brian’s – sticking to Brian’s good arm. Brian didn’t really talk about what was going on with his other arm, but it was worryingly bandaged up – and before the bandages had been put on, John had noticed the skin had been strangely red and swollen.

Brian squeezed his hand back just a little, which seemed like a good sign.

“Fred sends his love, like usual,” Roger continued, “And he says he’ll come by everyday next week when me and John aren’t around. We’ll call, too, when we can.”

Brian nodded, pressing his lips together, gaze still fixed on the ceiling. It looked like he was only half listening. Apparently, Roger didn’t have much more planned to say either, because he too went quiet.

John very much wanted to just climb into the bed with Brian and hold him and pretend that his scent wasn’t still bitter and warped by sickness, but he knew he couldn’t.

Finally, Brian broke the silence.

“They might have to amputate my arm.”

His voice cracked on the last word, like he might cry, but he didn’t. Still, the shock in the room was palpable – the silence that followed oppressively heavy with the dawning realisation that this wasn’t some terrible, terrible joke.

“It’s gangrene. I didn’t… I didn’t mention it before, because it’s- well, it’s not nice to look at, and I suppose I was hoping it would clear up but-“

Brian’s voice cracked again, and it was a sob this time. He was obviously trying to hold that at bay as he continued.

“It’s getting worse faster now.”

Roger was just as silent as John, not knowing how to respond to news so horrifying.

“I might not ever play again.”

John felt like he might be sick. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how Brian felt.

The worst part was that he couldn’t even do anything. He couldn’t tell Brian it would get better, because it might not. He couldn’t hold Brian, because Brian was so sick that probably even that would hurt him.

He couldn’t even promise he’d stay by Brian’s side, because in just a few days, John would be out of his mind with heat and probably wouldn’t even be able to remember who Brian was.

They didn’t speak much more during that visit. There were – of course – assurances that they still cared for Brian. That they would visit whenever possible. That whatever happened, they would be there for him.

When visiting hours came to an end, Brian didn’t even make the usual effort to hide his misery. He stared up at the ceiling with sad, resigned eyes, and the image stayed stuck to the back of John’s mind long after they’d left the hospital room.

He was almost glad four days later, when his heat finally crashed over him, and washed the image away.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Going back into the studio without Brian felt wrong.

They’d waited as long as they could, though, and Brian was definitely on the mend - they were all still reeling from the relief that his arm had finally started to heal, after weeks of agonising uncertainty. It was shortly after that news came through that Brian had insisted the rest of the band start writing and preparing for their next album, assuring them that he would join in as soon as was physically possible, and that it would make him happier in his hospital bed all day to know they were out doing something productive.

Still, the atmosphere just wasn’t the same without Brian, Roger thought as he tried to eke out the lyrics he wanted from his Brian-focused brain. John would play lead guitar when one of them needed to actually hear the sound for whatever song they were writing, but he was always quick to set the instrument down as soon as the immediate need to be playing it was gone, ever-conscious of feeling like he’d replaced Brian.

Despite all that, the few songs they had written were actually rather good. And Roger knew Brian wasn’t totally uninvolved; last time they’d been at the hospital, Brian had softly hummed for them the bridge for a new song he’d come up with, and Roger had been stunned that he could write something so beautiful in such a dreary place.

So yes, they weren’t out of the woods yet, but things were looking up. Brian wasn’t well yet, but by now, they were all confident that he would be well again some day, and the future didn’t look so bleak.

Roger tapped out an idea of a beat against the chair he was sat on, and imagined how good the skilled roar of Brian’s guitar would sound along with.

And he knew soon enough, he wouldn’t just have to imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, that was a tough one, thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed my little angsty detour.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! Also, this fic hit 100 bookmarks the other day, so I'm very pleased and thankful for that <3
> 
> CW Detail: This covers a lot of stuff from Brian's (real life) struggle with hepatitis. Hospitals, mentions of amputation, depression, and fear of having transmitted the disease to others. However, just like in real life, Brian will get better, so if you think that the content of this chapter just isn't for you - because it's heavy in quite a different way to the rest of the fic - please take care of yourself and skip it. Future chapters will no doubt make mention of these issues, but not so heavily.


	30. Think I'll Stay Around (Around, Around, Around)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various scenes from the recording of Sheer Heart Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E (only the fifth section is explicit, the rest is an M)

Brian couldn’t come up with words that described just how good it felt to be home.

Technically, this wasn’t even his home. It was John and Roger’s place; Brian had a whole separate flat which was really only good for costing him money and storing the things that he didn’t need access to regularly. He didn’t call that place home. When he’d been given the all-clear to leave the hospital at long last, Brian hadn’t even considered going anywhere else but John and Roger’s flat.

To his left, John sighed softly against the crook of Brian’s neck, apparently already fast asleep. John had barely left Brian’s side since he got back, apparently intent on cloaking himself in Brian’s scent again – whether consciously or not.

Roger had been less clingy, but only marginally. Right now, he was pressed close to Brian’s right hand side, one arm flung over Brian’s stomach. And Brian could tell Roger was still awake, but they weren’t talking, just enjoying each others’ company in contented silence. Still, Roger seemed to appreciate when Brian stroked his back gently – he couldn’t really be anything but gentle, right now, his whole body was quite stiff and sore from being bedridden – and Roger shuffled a little closer, pressing a soft kiss to Brian’s jaw.

And Brian was so in love with both of them, he wanted to tell them right then. He’d held back the words while he was in hospital, wanting to be better before he said them, but now that he was out it was like a physical need to tell Roger and John how he felt.

Now wasn’t the moment, though. Now, they just needed a bit of time to get used to being together again, outside of the restrictive visiting hours of the hospital.

Confessions could wait for a little while.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I can’t believe you wrote a _song_ about it.”

Roger sounded completely exasperated, and Freddie was obviously trying to stifle his giggles as John just about managed to snatch the piece of paper from Roger’s hands before it could be crumpled up into a ball.

“Roger, really, you’re putting meaning where there isn’t any,” John tried to reason, and Brian might have sided with him, but he’d heard the song before Roger got his hands on the lyrics sheet. John had hummed it to him that morning over breakfast, while Roger was in the shower.

Brian thought it was quite a good song, actually, especially considering it was John’s first.

“ _Don’t you miss this time_! That makes it sound like it happened loads of times! It happened _once!_ ” Roger snapped, and really, he looked more embarrassed than angry, pinning Freddie with a glare and pointing his drumsticks at him, “Stop laughing, okay, it’s not bloody funny.”

“It’s pretty funny, Rog,” Brian cut in. He felt quite protected from Roger’s wrath; still only two weeks out of the hospital, Roger had been nothing but extremely gentle with him thus far, and Brian had good reason to believe that that wouldn’t change.

Sure enough, Roger’s face twisted a little, but he didn’t actually send any threats Brian’s way.

“It’s not funny,” he huffed, then turned his attention back to John, “If this is going on the album, then we’re having a disclaimer on the back to say it was just _one time_.”

Freddie let out another burst of laughter, indicating that either he couldn’t hold it in, or he wasn’t cowed in the slightest by Roger’s threat. If it was the latter, Brian couldn’t blame him; Roger looked more cute than scary in that moment.

“If we put a disclaimer, people will think it _has_ happened more than once and we’re trying to hide it,” John pointed out, quite reasonably, and Roger narrowed his eyes.

“So you admit that the song’s about me, then?”

John froze, obviously caught out. Brian couldn’t help chuckling softly. It wasn’t often that he saw John and Roger arguing – and this didn’t even really feel like arguing, there was an undercurrent of fondness that left Brian with no doubt that the two of them would kiss and make up before lunchtime.

For now, though, Roger had chucked his drumsticks to the floor and was sat in the corner pouting as John showed Freddie the lyrics again.

Brian was ridiculously glad to be back in the studio with them.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Even after returning from the hospital, Brian really wasn’t in the mood for sex.

It was frustrating, because he wanted to be. He knew it had been a painfully long time since he’d been intimate with John and Roger, and he wanted that closeness again, but the energy needed wasn’t energy Brian had in him right now - especially not after pulling full days in the studio, churning out guitar solos to fill the gaps that his bandmates had left in otherwise-complete recordings.

Still, that didn’t stop the three of them from finding other ways to be intimate.

Like now, when Brian was sat cross-legged on the floor of the shower as John carefully massaged shampoo into his hair.

They’d figured out pretty quickly that standing up didn’t work for this, but Brian didn’t really mind sitting – it was quite a relief, actually, when he came home most days feeling rather exhausted. And John’s hands were the perfect solution for that, just firm enough against Brian’s scalp, without being rough.

He was pretty sure that by this point, his hair was well and thoroughly shampooed, but Brian was hardly going to _stop_ John when it felt so good. Instead, he gave a low moan of encouragement, and smiled a little when he felt John’s lips on his bare shoulder, gifting him with a few soft kisses.

“Do you ever let Roger get any of the hot water?” Brian asked playfully, and John laughed.

“No, never,” he replied. Brian was almost disappointed to then see John reach for the shower head, though the pressure of the water did admittedly feel very pleasant as John methodically washed the suds out of his hair. “He’s the one that wanted curry,” John continued, “He can’t complain about what we do while he’s out getting it.”

“Seems fair,” Brian hummed, as if he would do anything but agree with John when John’s gentle fingers were combing through Brian’s wet hair and sending lovely tingles down his spine.

Roger, of course, put on a show of being annoyed when he got home, but not ten minutes later he was sat on John’s lap feeding him naan bread, so Brian had to assume they had been forgiven.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Have you and John shagged yet?”

Brian nearly choked on his drink at the suddenness of the question. Really, though, when Freddie insisted that they have a night-in ‘just the two of them, like the old days’, he should have anticipated the conversation turning in that direction.

Still on a strict alcohol ban, Brian couldn’t even drown out his embarrassment the usual way.

“Uh, no. No, we haven’t,” Brian replied after a moment. He didn’t look in Freddie’s direction; he didn’t have to look to know the other man was smirking. “I’m pretty sure John would tell you if we did.”

“Mm, true, but I thought it was worth asking you as well,” Freddie replied, and Brian had no doubt that Freddie had only asked to make him squirm.

“Honestly, it hasn’t really been… I haven’t really been up for it since getting out of the hospital,” Brian admitted with a bit of a grimace. It felt like it had been ages.

“Hardly surprising. You’ve got to give it time, darling, Roger and John don’t mind waiting, I’m sure,” Freddie said, reaching over and giving Brian a pat on the shoulder.

“I suppose.”

“Though John does seem awfully keen on the idea,” Freddie added, and Brian choked on his drink again. Freddie was going to send him back to the hospital, at this rate.

“Yeah?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Well, I shouldn’t give away too much,” Freddie purred, a twinkle in his eye, and before Brian could ask any more, Freddie had jumped up and changed the topic to something about a jacket he’d picked up while Brian was away that would look “simply stunning” on him.

Brian’s mind was very much still focused on the fact that John was apparently so excited to take a step further with in bed that he’d told Freddie about it.

He found it hard to focus on much else for the rest of the evening.

\-----------------------------------------------------

“Bri…”

John’s voice was lovely, and soft, and keening as Brian licked deeper into him, feeling half-drunk off of John’s pheromones and the way John’s fingers twitched against Brian’s scalp each time Brian’s tongue pressed into him – always gentle, never pulling.

Brian had never done this before. Not even with a beta – it just hadn’t come up. Apparently, he wasn’t too bad at it, though, if John’s response was anything to go by.

Roger was lounging rather lazily beside them, jerking off slowly, and Brian thought that probably the only downside of having his face pressed between John’s legs was the fact that he couldn’t see Roger. That thought was quickly dispelled from his mind when John let out another particularly lovely moan – breathless and soft – and Brian felt compelled to reward it by dragging his tongue slowly over John’s entrance again.

When they’d started, he’d been pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to do much more than this, but – whether it was the high of finally having completed the album earlier that day, or the rush brought on by John’s pheromones – Brian definitely felt up for more now, cock achingly hard in his boxers.

Pulling back a little, which drew a barely-stifled whimper from John, Brian gazed up at him. John looked utterly captivating, he thought – flushed and practically twitching with need – and Brian wanted nothing more than to make love to him.

It took him a second to say as much, and it was nowhere close to how eloquent it had sounded in his head.

“If you want,” he began, “We could do a bit more than just this.”

“Yes,” John said, so quickly it was as if he’d anticipated the question, “Yes, I want to.” A pause, just a glimpse of hesitation, and then: “Can I ride you?”

Brian swallowed thickly and nodded. Couldn’t find the right words to say. Just shifted a little clumsily to sit at the head of the bed, accidentally kicking Roger in the stomach on the way, but Roger didn’t seem to mind – just laughed it off and looked rather fondly amused.

“Might want to wipe up a bit, Bri,” Roger pointed out, tossing over the t-shirt John had stripped out of twenty minutes ago.

“Why _my_ shirt, Rog?” John protested, though only playfully, as he climbed onto Brian’s lap, and Brian took the opportunity to hurriedly wipe off the slick coating the lower half of his face.

And then, he was face to face with John – who was sat nice and close on Brian’s lap, close enough that Brian could feel the warm press of John’s cock against his stomach – and Brian floundered for a moment, because he wanted John so much and now the usual nerves, the usual worry that he might hurt his partner, had struck Brian like a kick to the gut.

John was sweet, though, and patient, and seemed to know exactly what was going through Brian’s head.

“I trust you, Bri,” he murmured softly, cupping Brian’s cheek and pressing their lips together.

Even though John had seemed almost on the verge of orgasming before Brian had changed things up, they still took their time, which Brian was immensely grateful for. They kissed, slow and intimate, and John let Brian slowly finger him open, even though he really didn’t seem to need it. Brian needed it, though, and the way John clutched at his shoulders and writhed against him and whimpered Brian’s name was enough to convince Brian that John really didn’t mind taking the extra time either.

When they were both ready, it still took a few attempts for John to sink down onto Brian’s cock – the angle wasn’t the easiest to work with - but it was worth it for when John finally managed it, and Brian saw stars, twinkling and bright and very scientifically inaccurate. John seemed to be feeling much the same thing; he shuddered bodily, something which Brian felt right down to his core, and let out a long, juddering breath.

Brian was rather content to let John set the pace at first, and John seemed perfectly happy with that, rolling his hips and making those lovely moans that sounded almost like sobs – like John couldn’t believe how good it felt. Before long, Brian couldn’t resist pressing his hips up too, quick, sharp thrusts that made John gasp and shudder, and it didn’t take too many of those before Brian felt his orgasm approaching.

He’s almost forgotten what that would mean, when he was with John, but he was reminded quickly enough when each increasingly frantic thrust seemed to be met with more delicious friction, growing in intensity until suddenly, it was too much. Suddenly, he just wanted to be pressed deep into John, and not to move at all.

Fortunately, John seemed to be on the same wavelength, sinking down on Brian’s cock and kissing him frantically as Brian’s knot swelled inside of him, and locked them in place together.

Honestly, Brian had always thought it might be a bit unpleasant, but with John, it wasn’t. It was probably the most intense orgasm he’d had in his life, actually, and he couldn’t do much more than catch his breath and hold John close as John went boneless in his arms. Brian stroked a shaky hand down John’s back, kissing his shoulder and ignoring the fading – but still rather present – temptation to bite into the delicate skin there and claim John properly.

It was only when Roger shuffled over that Brian really came back to himself.

“How long does that usually last?” Roger asked curiously, leaning over and dropping a kiss to the top of John’s head. John practically purred with contentment, still very much out of it.

“Not sure,” Brian replied honestly, “It varies, apparently. But I’ve never done it before, so no idea.”

“Huh,” Roger murmured, then curled up closer to Brian, basking in contented silence with him and John.

It turned out, the answer Brian had been looking for was ‘about eight minutes’. Brian’s knot going down coincided rather well with John pulling himself out of his usual post-orgasmic haze, actually, though John seemed in no rush to climb off of Brian’s lap even once he could. He stayed put, leaning over to share a few lazy kisses with Roger, and when Brian shifted to lie down so he could go to sleep, John still stayed halfway on top of him, apparently unwilling to let go.

Brian didn’t mind, though. He didn’t mind in the slightest. He kept one arm around John’s waist, the other around Roger’s, and felt a warm haze of contentment overtake him. And the words just slipped out, like the most natural thing in the world.

“I love you,” he murmured, the words quiet in the dark of the bedroom, just for the three of them, “I love you both so much.”

And the thrill of saying the words was quickly matched by the thrill of hearing them back from both men in his arms, and though part of Brian wanted to say those same words a million times over, he knew it could wait.

He knew they had time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of wanted to leave that confession for next chapter, but then I saw that this was chapter 30 and I'm a fucking sucker for nice round numbers so I just had to to it. I had to. Also..... 30 CHAPTERS can you BELIEVE??? That's just crazy to me. Thank you for reading this humble chapter, and for all of the lovely wonderful support so far, both on tumblr and on ao3.
> 
> I'll take this opportunity to point things out, as we are slowly nearing the end of the first 'section' of this fic. I've made a series, which currently just contains this one fic, but I would recommend subscribing to the series now so you don't forget later, because my plan is that when we reach a certain point, I will end this fic and continue the overarching story as oneshots (since there are large parts of the band's timeline that I'll just be skipping over). So yeah, go subscribe if you want to be reading that when it happens ;)
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos mean the world to me <3 Until next chapter~~


	31. South Beach, Bringin the Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John meets somebody new at an Omega Health Clinic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the title is from a Will Smith song sorry not sorry)
> 
> Rating: M
> 
> If you haven't read the one-shot I posted in the W&T 'verse series, you might want to check that out first for a lil bit more context. It's not necessary though!

John hated these types of clinics. Omega Health Clinics, which weren’t really like real hospitals, even though they pretended to be.

For one thing, Roger and Brian weren’t allowed in the waiting room with him. No, the waiting room was strictly for omegas and their mates – and clinic staff, obviously – which meant John was all on his own as he waited for the appointment that he didn’t particularly want.

He knew what would happen. The doctor would have a poke around down there and make John feel embarrassed and uncomfortable, and then John would be allowed to put his trousers back on and present all the evidence he’d painstakingly gathered to show that his lifestyle might make him eligible for going on heat suppressants early, and – as usual – the doctor would say no.

Dr Rodes always said no.

John tried to remember the soft kisses Roger had given him on the car ride over, and the warm hug from Brian. It made him feel a little better, until an unfamiliar voice cut into his thoughts.

“ _Promiscuous and proud.”_

John startled as a man suddenly sat beside him, taking a second to register the words. They sounded sort of familiar, but he couldn’t place where from.

“That _is_ you, right? I thought I recognised you, didn’t ever think I’d run into you, especially not here of all places,” the man continued, and John just stared at him a little bewildered. He’d seen the man – an omega, like John, but a little older – when he first entered the waiting room, but didn’t really understand why he would come over and speak to John. It was practically impolite to strike up conversations with strangers in a hospital waiting room.

“Sorry?” John said finally.

“Maybe you never saw the article, I suppose it’s best if you didn’t,” the man said, and that was when it clicked. _Promiscuous & Proud. _It had been the headline for the rather nasty write-up about Queen, way back during their first tour. But that had been a local paper from Leeds, why would this guy in a clinic in London know about it?

John’s mind was whirring, but he didn’t actually say anything aloud, so it seemed the man was about to press on when they were both interrupted by a nurse’s voice ringing out.

“Deacon, John. Dr Rodes is ready to see you now.”

John gave his best apologetic smile, and went to stand up, but the man was oddly persistent.

“Wait, just one second. Do you think we could meet for coffee a bit later? Just nearby, you can bring somebody along if you’d like, if you’re not comfortable meeting alone.”

“Sorry, I’m not-“

“You’re under twenty-five, right?” the man pressed.

John paused. He was. There was only one reason he could think of why the man would be asking, especially given their location, but he nodded despite himself.

“I might be able to get you on suppressants.” John made a face. He’d heard horror stories about black-market suppressants. “All legal. I’m a lawyer. Could you maybe just wait around after this? Or call me, we’ll sort something out. But I’d be really interested to talk to you more.”

And just as John was being ushered along by the impatient looking nurse, the man handed him a business card, and John took it despite his better judgement.

John just took a second to read the name on the card.

_Jim Beach_. Huh. Snappy.

Then, John pocketed it, and stepped into the doctor’s office.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roger was used to waiting outside the clinic for John, though usually he didn’t have company. It was nice to have Brian along, though – and he assumed that would be a regular thing from now on. Since John had gone inside, looking glum about the whole ordeal, Brian had seemed rather nervous, and Roger couldn’t blame him. He remembered the first time he’d waited out here for John, remembered the uncertainty about how John would be feeling when he came out.

By now, Roger must have done this – he quickly counted in his head – six times, though, and he thought that he was pretty familiar with the various moods John might be in when he returned.

He’d thought wrong.

John came striding out of the clinic this time looking nothing short of _furious._ Roger had hardly ever seen him look so angry, but it wasn’t just anger on his face, even if that was the predominant emotion. There was frustration, and humiliation, and sadness, and all of it broke Roger’s heart to see.

Still, he greeted John with a hug when he came out, and despite everything, John hugged him back tightly. He was shaking in Roger’s arms.

Roger couldn’t help but jump to conclusions – he’d heard stories about these places, about handsy doctors and about invasive exams - but John had been seeing the same doctor for the past four years and although he sounded like a right twat, John had never given any indication that the man was anything less than professional in that regard. Still, Roger was ready to punch first and ask questions later.

Brian, fortunately, wasn’t so aggressive.

“What’s the matter?” he asked softly, reaching over and stroking John’s back. The three of them were garnering a few looks from passers-by, and Roger didn’t give a shit.

“Dr Rodes says- He says he’s going to put a _note_ on my file,” John huffed, voice wavering, “Saying I shouldn’t be allowed suppressants ‘til I’ve found a _suitable_ relationship and been mated at least- at least _five years._ ” John spat out those last two words like they were a curse, and Roger understood why. All these years of enduring heats, John had been basically counting down to his twenty-fifth birthday, when he should have been allowed a decent chance of getting suppressants to reduce those heats from three or four times a year to just one – and even then the suppressants would give him more control over when that heat occurred. Now, that little hope John had been nurturing all this time had been ripped away by one man’s decision, and John was rightfully pissed about it.

Hell, Roger was pissed off for him. He was fuming, but he didn’t know what they could do about it.

Brian looked at a loss too.

“I was so stupid, I thought maybe if I mentioned Brian… But if I’m still with you as well, he won’t… And I _can’t-_ “ John cut himself off, looking unspeakably distressed, and Roger could barely parse what he was talking about. Then, abruptly, some thought seemed to drag John back from the metaphorical ledge of outright panic he’d been hanging over. And he glanced around, and hesitated.

When he spoke again, his voice had affected a rather different – much calmer - tone, though it was still a little hoarse.

“Can we wait here a minute? Before going back home?” John asked, and the words seemed to come completely out of the blue, but Roger was hardly going to say no. They’d deliberately left the day free, knowing it was a rough one for John.

They hung around for a few minutes, and then - as it became clear that John was still waiting for something - they moved to sit on the bench Brian and Roger had been waiting on earlier. There was a bit of light conversation – just inane stuff – but John didn’t really join in.

He was watching the entrance to the clinic intently.

Roger was starting to worry that maybe John was planning on attacking Dr Rodes when he came out for his lunch break. Sure, the man probably deserved it for tearing away John’s hopes of having just a bit more control over his life, but Roger knew he should probably stop John if he attempted an assault.

And then, after nearly fifteen minutes, John perked up. Roger looked to the entrance of the clinic and saw a man in a suit and tie stepping out. It seemed sensible to assume he was an omega, but he was dressed like some hot-shot corporate beta - in a suit and tie and shiny shoes.

Whatever the case, he was clearly what John had been waiting for, because John jumped up – assuring them he would only be a moment – and then walked over to the man, who seemed just delighted to see John. The man shook John’s hand, and Roger couldn’t make out any of what they were saying from this distance, but the conversation certainly lasted longer than a moment.

“What d’you reckon they’re talking about?” Roger asked Brian, shuffling over to lean closer to the other man. He couldn’t help the warmth that filled his chest when Brian slipped an arm around his shoulder, easy and affectionate, even out in public. “Have you ever seen that guy before anyway?”

“No clue,” Brian replied, “And no.” Brian paused then, as if he was thinking, and then sighed. “No, I’ve really got no bloody idea at all. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen John talk to another omega before.”

Roger winced, because it was unfortunate, but true. He knew John had been very friendly with a few of their omega classmates during O-levels, just like he knew John had pretty rapidly lost contact with those classmates around the time they all turned sixteen and left school and got mated off. Generally, these days, John didn’t really have omega friends, because all the omegas his age were mated, and their alphas were hardly going to have them hanging around a ‘free spirit’ like John who might influence them with his independent lifestyle.

Finally, John wandered back over – and his mood seemed to have improved dramatically. He wore a soft, hopeful little smile that Roger wanted to bottle up and keep forever.

“Do you think Freddie will be home at this time of day?” John asked, and Roger was already even more confused, “We should go by and pick him up. I – er – I invited Jim over to our place for tea and a chat, I hope that’s okay.”

And despite being horribly confused, Roger trusted John’s judgement. So if John wanted to have this stranger over for tea, Roger didn’t see why they shouldn’t have the stranger over for tea.

When he said as much, John beamed, and Roger wondered just what was going on in that clever brain of his.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brian had only spoken to Jim Beach – who Freddie had dubbed ‘Miami’ – for an hour or so, but already he found himself admiring the man.

Much as Brian tried not to let knowledge of Jim’s dynamic change how he viewed him, it was a bit hard not to when it was just so ridiculously impressive that he’d managed to become a lawyer – a relatively successful one, too, in his niche of entertainment law – as an omega. It was downright unheard of, actually. Of course, mated omegas were allowed to study and work with the permission of their alpha, but usually that meant rather more low-flying careers. Jim being a successful lawyer was just about as shocking as John becoming a successful musician.

Apparently, Jim had come across that one particularly nasty article about Queen after a colleague visited Leeds and brought it back for him, correctly believing that it would be of interest to him. And though Jim had been just as disgusted by the contents as the rest of them, he had been delighted at the idea that an unmated omega had managed to break into the industry.

So delighted, that he apparently wanted to work with them.

“We’re in a contract right now with a company called Trident. Have you heard of them?” John was saying, leaning across the table to top up Jim’s cup of tea as he spoke. He’d very much taken the lead in the conversation, which Brian didn’t mind in the slightest. John had always had a bit more of a brain for business than him, and this whole conversation was really just confirming Brian’s suspicion that John only let Brian take the lead in business talks usually because the people they were talking to were alphas and betas, who were prone to disregarding John’s very valid contributions.

“Mm, yes. And you’ve released all of your albums so far with them?” Jim replied. John nodded.

“Yes, the first two, and this one that’s just coming out now,” he said, “But we’re all rather tired of them, honestly. And I’m not really very fond of the representative that all of our dealings go through, either.”

“An alpha?” Jim asked, and John pursed his lips and nodded.

The conversation carried on, John still being rather shrewd with what he disclosed, despite how quickly he’d taken to Jim. Honestly, Brian had never seen John warm up to somebody so fast. It helped a great deal that Jim and John seemed to be on the same wavelength when it came to ideas of how things should be run, and before too long – and even though it was only an informal meeting – they’d practically devised a whole plan for getting Queen out of their current contract, into a new one with a studio that had expressed interest already, and with Jim as the band’s lawyer.

Brian quite liked the idea of having a lawyer who would be really, genuinely invested in protecting John from the vitriol of the world.

After the meeting that wasn’t technically a meeting, John was quick to offer to see Jim and Freddie out of the building. John stayed out for longer than Brian had been expecting though, to the point that he was about to go and see if John was okay when Roger pointed out of the window and Brian realised that he could see Jim and John out by the entrance to the building, apparently deeply immersed in conversation still.

Brian felt rude spying after about a minute, so he pulled his head away from the window and distracted himself with pressing close to Roger as he did the washing up, peppering kisses down the shorter man’s neck.

When John did return, he was smiling, and it was so nice to see. Just a few hours earlier, Brian had thought John might be inconsolable the whole day, and with good reason.

“Jim’s going to send off the paperwork to get me on suppressants tomorrow morning.”

They were the first words that John said when he got back in, and he looked so bloody happy that it distracted Brian from his own surprise. There had been no mentions of suppressants up to that point, though looking back, it did make a few things click into place. Even then, he knew the rules – suppressants before twenty-five were basically impossible to get.

“I just need to go ‘round to his office and drop off some of my papers, and yeah, he says it shouldn’t take more than a month to go through, and they might want me to go in for an interview but he can go with me and he’s done it before,” John continued, sounding breathless and excited, “And then I can just go to the pharmacy and pick them up. Just like that.”

“Jesus, that easy?” Roger asked, and John nodded.

“Jim says there’s some loophole he knows and it’s just not widely exploited because – well – because most lawyers aren’t getting hired for that sort of stuff. And in a few years, they’ll probably fix it, but they’ll find it hard to take away prescriptions people have already got because that’s- It’s not important. But yeah. Easy as that.”

And seeing Roger step over, then, and pull John into his arms and hug him tightly, Brian couldn’t really resist joining them. John’s scent radiated happiness, and Brian was happy for him.

And weirdly, Brian felt almost a little gratitude towards that shitty journalist from Leeds, who would probably have been horrified to know he’d made all of this happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I was going to save this one for tomorrow, as I uploaded a one-shot today already (go check it out if you haven't ;) It's the next one in this series) but I couldn't resist. I'd been waiting to incorporate Miami for a little while, actually, because John needed some more happiness in his life.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos brighten my day <3


	32. Blow Your Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian, Roger and John have received unwanted publicity before, but it ramps up to a new level as the Sheer Heart Attack tour commences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E (first two sections are a T)

Killer Queen hit the charts in America, and John was ecstatic.

The next day, a national gossip rag published an exposé on their relationship, and John felt…

He didn’t know how to feel. He felt empty, like the full realisation of what this meant hadn’t hit him yet, but his mind was making room for when it did.

The worst part was the pictures. John and Brian holding hands as they entered the studio, Brian murmuring something in John’s ear that had obviously made him laugh. Brian and Roger sharing a quick kiss outside a bar, with John just stepping out to join them. Roger and John hugging outside of the clinic, John looking a mess and Roger looking ready to stab someone because of it.

All these were moments that John remembered, staring back at him in grainy black and white, the memories now marred forever by how violated he felt to think of thousands of people seeing them.

Thousands of people judging them.

“They’ll get over it,” Roger murmured softly from behind him, arms tightening around John’s waist. The words were accompanied by a soft kiss to the shell of his ear, and gentle hands taking the paper away and setting it aside so John could no longer see the damning article. “And if they don’t get over it,” Roger continued, “Who gives a shit? We’re happy, aren’t we?”

In the near-distance, John could hear Brian on the phone, voice hushed but still sounding decidedly _un_ happy.

“No, dad… Yes, well… Yes, I suppose that part _is_ accurate, but the rest is nonsense.”

Brian had been perhaps the most upset about the morning paper. Miami had been nice enough to call and let them know what to expect, and Brian had been the one to dash out to the corner shop to actually pick the damned thing up. He’d barely been back through the door before he’d gone straight to the phone to ring his parents; if the conversation was anything to go by, Brian hadn’t been quick enough to catch them before they saw the news for themselves.

“He’s not very traditional, no,” Brian was saying, and John wasn’t even sure if it was himself or Roger being talked about. “No, but he’s… He’s lovely, dad. If you just met him, if you just met both of them… No, it’s not like that… Right. No, yeah, I know… I’m sorry you had to find out like this… Give my love to mum… Has she seen- Oh, right. Well, give her my love… Okay… Bye then.”

Brian hung up the phone with a heavy sigh, and then hunched forward on the sofa, burying his face in his hands.

It seemed like John and Roger made the decision to join Brian on the sofa at the exact same moment, no words needed. Brian – John knew by now – could be a bit of a closed book when he was upset. Really, genuinely upset, like he obviously was now. Still, after a few minutes, Brian finally seemed to soften up to the two of them, slipping an arm around John, and then around Roger, and pressing brief and strangely serious kisses to each of their foreheads.

After a few more moments, the embrace had turned a little tighter, and more possessive, but John didn’t mind so much – it seemed to be making Brian feel better, at least, some of the tension melting out of him.

John nervously wondered if that improved mood could last through the press event they were scheduled to attend the next day. Maybe, just maybe, the reporters would just ask about the album, like they were supposed to.

John didn’t have high hopes for that, though.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Freddie, what inspired you to write Killer Queen?”

The question wasn’t directed at him, and really, it was relatively inane, but Brian still felt a simmering tension in his gut. He knew what was coming. The journalists were warming the band up with questions they knew were allowed, getting them into a talkative mood before bringing out the big guns.

The big guns here being the recent public revelation of Brian’s relationship with his two bandmates.

He glanced over at John, who was radiating just as much nervous energy as Brian. Roger looked a little more at ease, but Brian suspected that was at least partially bravado.

“-so I suppose what I’m saying is: draw your own conclusions! It’s no fun if I give every little bit away,” Freddie finished off, and Brian would have felt rude not listening to his answer, but he was sure he’d heard Freddie answer that same question more than enough by now. He practically knew the response by heart, even if Freddie gave it a little different flair every time.

“Question for Brian.”

Brian’s stomach sank. _Please, let it be about the music._

“Why did you decide to allow John’s song ‘Misfire’ to be on the album? Don’t you think it’s quite an impertinent message for an omega to be sharing with the world?”

The reporter actually had the nerve to look proud of the ridiculous question he’d just asked.

“Excuse me?” was all Brian could muster up to say.

“Well, since it’s been reported that the two of you-“ Brian resisted the urge to correct that to ‘three’, “-are in a relationship, people are naturally curious why you seem to have no control over-“

“John wrote the song. The rest of the band liked it when he shared it with us. We made some adjustments and suggestions, and then we recorded it. The same way it works when I write a song, or when Freddie or Roger write a song,” Brian cut in, answering before the reporter was finished speaking because hearing that rhetoric had been making his stomach twist. Especially knowing that John was sitting and listening to it as well.

“It’s John’s song, why don’t you ask him if you have questions about it,” Freddie added, and nobody seemed to keen to take him up on that offer. It hadn’t escaped Brian’s notice that reporters always seemed keen to ask questions _about_ John, but never _to_ John.

Still, it seemed the floodgates had been opened.

“Brian, was it your idea originally to keep John unmated as a promotional stunt? Do you think it was worth it?”

Brian gritted his teeth. He tried to figure out how much longer this was meant to last, but glancing at his watch seemed rude, and there were no clocks in the room that he could see.

“It was nobody’s idea, that was never the intention. John being mated or unmated is his choice,” Brian said sharply.

“But you can’t deny it probably helped ticket sales in the early days, Brian,” the reporter pressed.

“I’m sure any increase in ticket sales was negligible,” Brian shot back, “People come to see us because they like the music. Speaking of, can we please try to keep the questions on the topic of the album from here-on out?”

“How do your families feel about all of this?”

The question wasn’t even directed to any of them specifically, but it certainly wedged itself right into a chink in Brian’s armour.

He knew what his dad thought of ‘all of this’, and it wasn’t much. He didn’t think much of the music, and he didn’t think much of Roger and John, and he certainly didn’t think much of the fact that Brian was dating both of them.

In that way, Brian’s dad seemed to be much in-line with the rest of the country, but it hurt coming from Brian’s own family.

“My mum quite likes the album, I think,” Roger replied, sparing the others from having to answer, and deliberately misinterpreting the question.

It was a small relief that – after Roger answered several more questions in that vein with similarly unsatisfactory answers – the reporters seemed to back down a bit, and went back to their usual tactic of directing the vast majority of questions at Freddie instead.

Brian would have to show Roger how grateful he was for that when they got back home.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

For all that the press attention but a strain on each of them, there were enough good moments that Roger didn’t doubt they’d make it through.

He brushed John’s mussed hair out of his face, and kissed him again, loving how he could feel the vibrations of John moaning raggedly against his lips, and the way John shuddered against him as Brian fucked into him from behind. Occasionally, when Roger would move to press messy, wet kisses down the side of John’s throat, he’d bump into Brian doing the same exact thing, and the two of them would share a biting kiss before returning their attention to John sandwiched between them.

John, for his part, seemed just on the verge of orgasm, even though they hadn’t been going very long at all. Not that Roger cared. He nipped at John’s lower lip, and rocked his hips forward so his erection slid deliciously against John’s – relishing how it made John whimper, his fingernails scraping bluntly down Roger’s back and his hips twitching forward desperately. Roger desperately wanted to know how it felt to be in the middle of those dual sensations.

“How’s it feel?” Roger asked, hearing the strain of arousal in his own voice, “Looks fucking amazing from here.”

“Good,” John panted out, and it wasn’t exactly descriptive, but Roger was half-surprised he’d even managed to reply at all. John looked utterly drunk on pleasure - when Roger leaned back far enough to get a proper look at him - his eyes half-lidded, and the flush of his cheeks spreading all the way down to his chest.

As if following Roger’s gaze, Brian’s hand slid up from John’s hip to thumb over John’s nipple – just gently, but John keened like it was so much more than the simple touch it was, his head tipping back against Brian’s shoulder.

“That good, huh?” Roger teased breathlessly, slipping a hand between them and wrapping it around their cocks, giving them a firm – if slightly too-dry – stroke. Still, Roger was getting close enough that he didn’t give a shit if the friction was just on the edge of being too much. He rutted forward against John, and into his own grip, and it seemed to be enough to tip John over into being truly overwhelmed, his eyes falling shut and breathless ‘ah ah ah’ sounds spilling from his bitten-red lips.

Perhaps unsurprisingly them, it was John who came first, burying his face against Roger’s shoulder and making a few more soft, pitchy noises as he spilled over his own stomach and Roger’s hand. Brian seemed to follow suit not a few moments later, hips jerking forward once more before stilling – and Roger didn’t have to see Brian knotting John to know it was happening, because John was keening desperately, and Brian was mouthing possessively at the crook of John’s neck, sucking what was sure to be a lovely red mark onto the pale skin there. Roger had seen them knotted together often enough by now to know how they reacted to it.

And though the temptation was definitely there just to take himself in hand and finish off, and then cuddle up to John, there _was_ something else Roger had been wanting to try.

He shifted down on the bed a little so he could drag his lips down John’s sternum, lavishing attention there before going lower still and nipping gently at the soft skin of John’s belly. That provoked a proper reaction from John, even if it was only another soft, keening sound.

Brian, meanwhile, had finished marking John’s neck, and was peering curiously down at Roger. Roger just winked back up at him, and then shuffled a little lower to wrap his lips around John’s softened cock.

The effect was pretty much immediate.

John’s breath hitched, and he moaned sharply – his previously idle hands coming quite quickly to rest in Roger’s hair, though they weren’t pushing him away or pulling him closer; his fingers just tangled into Roger’s hair, and rested there. It wasn’t an unfamiliar reaction by any stretch. Roger had done this a few times in the past, when John was zoned out and pliant after orgasming, though he’d never tried it with Brian there before.

He’d definitely never tried it when Brian was still knotted inside of John, and it evidently had the desired effect, because as John writhed – his cock starting to stiffen in Roger’s mouth – Brian let out a low, rumbling groan of pleasure.

Roger smirked as much as he could, which wasn’t much because John wasn’t exactly small, and he was already half-hard in Roger’s mouth. With one hand wrapped around his own cock, stroking languidly, Roger pulled back a little so he was just mouthing at the head of John’s cock, tongue rubbing teasingly over the tip of it before he bobbed his head, briefly taking John halfway before going back to just sucking at the tip.

“Please,” John moaned, voice high and slurred – though still easily understandable – and Roger wasn’t in the mood to deny him anything. Especially not when Brian was being rather vocal about his pleasure too, panting raggedly and huffing out Roger’s name as Roger took John in deeper again, stopping just short letting John’s cock hit the back of his throat and then dragging his tongue firmly up the underside of it.

He guessed by the way John couldn’t seem to stop trembling at the sensation that it wouldn’t take too long for him to finish, even though he had the still-drying evidence of his last orgasm marking his stomach. Sure enough, Roger only needed to bob his head a few times – his hand now stroking frantically over his own erection – for John to tense up, practically sobbing in pleasure as he came, and the sound of it was enough to have Roger following quite rapidly after him.

There was a lull of a few seconds, where Roger kept John’s softening cock in his mouth, and distantly felt the mattress shift slightly. Moments later, Brian was waving a tissue in front of Roger’s face, and he gratefully took it – spitting out John’s release into it, and then quickly wiping his own hand clean before tossing it vaguely in the direction of the bin.

The tissue definitely missed its target, and Roger definitely didn’t care, far more concerned with crawling back up to cuddle up to John – giving Brian’s arse a playful squeeze on the way.

John’s eyes were already shut, but he nuzzled quickly enough against Roger’s chest when Roger got close again. Brian was watching him though, a fond and slightly awed look in his eyes.

“You’re full of surprises,” he mumbled, reaching over to stroke a hand over the side of Roger’s neck. “I think that’s probably enough to tide me over for the next few months,” he added with a soft chuckle.

“It’d better not be,” Roger shot back, smirking and placing his hand over Brian’s.

“Maybe you can change my mind on that tomorrow,” Brian replied, voice laden with affection, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bri,” Roger murmured, smiling softly, “Now, is that tomorrow _morning_ , or…?”

Brian just laughed, the sound low and sleepy-sounding, and gave Roger a little pat on the cheek.

Press be damned, Roger couldn’t imagine giving this up for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait!!! I've had a lot going on at work, and honestly, I wrote a few iterations of this chapter that all got scrapped because they didn't fit in with where I think this fic is heading. After a bit of consideration, I'm pretty sure that I'll be wrapping up the fic next chapter, and continuing the story through a series of non-chronological one shots (in the series I've already set up). This is partly because the boys have hit most of their major milestones, and also because I'm getting a bit tired of being limited to chronology, honestly.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading, and for bearing with me during the wait!!! 
> 
> Comments and kudos as always are very much appreciated!! During the little hiatus, this fic hit 800 kudos and I'm so so grateful to all of you for that <3
> 
> See you next chapter ;)


	33. You're My Best Friend(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E (the 2nd and 5th sections are the perpetrators, the rest is like an M)

“It’s just that it’s much more likely to actually work if we do it during my heat.”

It was obvious that John had already talked about this with Brian. Had probably already talked specifically about having this conversation with Roger, and had probably agonised over the best way to explain it all.

“And since I’m on the suppressants now, this will be my last heat for a year, and I just… I think it makes sense, Rog, and I want to, but I don’t want to do it if it’ll make you feel uncomfortable,” John pressed on, and he was squeezing Roger’s hands gently, leaned close to him, but Roger barely felt it. “You know, if we could… If it was possible with you, it would have happened ages ago.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Roger said, and John looked so relieved just to hear him speak. Roger wanted to reassure him more, but he honestly wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole idea.

John being mated to Brian.

John being mated _full stop_ was weird concept. John being tied to somebody else in a way he could never be tied to Roger.

It was frustrating, because for all the effort Brian and John had put into reassuring Roger that they loved him just as much, he still couldn’t help the niggling worry that he would become secondary once they were mated. After all, an alpha – asked to pick between his mate, and his other lover – would certainly always pick his mate. The same probably went for an omega, even if it was a touch harder to picture with John.

But then, John would be able to do so much more if he was mated, and wasn’t that what Roger had always wanted for him? To be able to go to university, and feel safe going out alone, and have somebody there to hold his hand in the O.H.C. waiting room. Of course, their growing fame had turned a few of the old worries into non-issues, but still…

“Do it,” Roger said eventually, “If it’s what you want. I’m happy for you two.”

And John smiled: a lovely, relieved smile that showed the little gap in his teeth. He looked so happy, Roger thought, that the half-lie was almost worth it.

Even if he wasn’t happy with it now, surely in a few months – or a few years – he would be, Roger decided, only half-convincing himself of that idea.

Whatever the case, he would certainly get used to it eventually. He had to.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound that John made as Brian dragged his hips back - seating himself snugly inside of John as the omega shuddered bodily and clawed at the bedsheets – seemed barely human. It was animalistic, and hoarse, and Roger might have mistaken it for a sound of distress if it hadn’t then been followed up by a series of brief, breathy moans as Brian apparently knotted inside of him, and John came – making a further mess of the already rather-stained bed sheets.

Roger was only half-watching at this point. Obviously, he wasn’t needed, and watching Brian and John shag during a heat was proving to be far, far less enjoyable than watching them shag normally. They barely seemed like themselves, and it made Roger’s stomach twist to see John eagerly accepting things that he usually wouldn’t have liked at all, and to see Brian being so rough in a way that he never would have been when he had his wits about him.

Later, when Brian and John had dozed off – John held securely in Brian’s arms, looking happy as could be – Roger slipped out of the flat. He’d promised Brian that he’d stay with them for the first two days, making sure nothing went too far, but he just desperately needed a bit of a break, and a cigarette.

Slumping against the brick wall outside and lighting up immediately soothed something inside Roger, relieving a tension he’d only been partly aware of himself.

Of course, he didn’t want John to be miserable during his heats. It did hurt, though, to see how _different_ John was when it was Brian helping him through and not Roger. How most of that frantic, desperate energy was gone. How John seemed utterly satisfied and content after each fuck, even with bruises on his hips and ruddy knees. How Brian seemed to do naturally what it had taken Roger many heats and many failed attempts to figure out.

Roger stayed out longer than he’d intended, in the end, burning through about three consecutive fags – doing more thinking than smoking.

When he got back to the bedroom, John and Brian had moved – had probably gone for another round in Roger’s absence, then fallen back asleep. They looked so peaceful, in utter contradiction to how Roger felt.

Absentmindedly, he brushed a thumb over the still-raw bite mark on John’s throat – a clear sign that he was mated now. Even as he slept, John shifted a little into the touch, sighing contentedly, and Roger couldn’t begrudge him his happiness.

Shifting his attention to Brian, Roger reached over, and brushed away the sweaty curls plastered to the edges of Brian’s face. Roger wanted nothing more than to nestle in between his lovers, but the two of them were pretty inseparably pressed together. Besides, falling asleep between them would probably have meant waking up to messy, rough heat-sex happening on top of him.

In the end, Roger spent the night on the sofa.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the heat was over – mainly, once Brian and John were in a frame of mind to _remember_ that there was a third person in their relationship – things did admittedly get better. Enough so that it wasn’t even too difficult to press down the lingering feeling of being a third wheel.

The feeling didn’t disappear completely though.

It reared its head sometimes more strongly than others.

Like one particular morning on Ridge Farm, when Roger woke up to find he’d been shoved right to the edge of the bed so that John could turn around and cuddle closer to Brian. Roger knew that he couldn’t blame John for what he did in his sleep, of course– just like he couldn’t stop his feelings being hurt, even when he knew it wasn’t rational.

Even when Brian woke up, and pulled Roger closer, and kissed him gently – the scratch of his newly-grown beard not entirely pleasant but also not too offensive – Roger felt that same niggling feeling in his stomach. Stupidly, though, it eased a little when John woke up and kissed Roger first, Brian second.

“You don’t have any plans for this morning, do you?” John asked softly, and it took Roger a few moments to realise that it was only him being addressed, not Brian as well.

“Well, I was planning on writing the next big hit, but I suppose I could give that up for you, if you’ve got other ideas,” Roger teased, and John laughed a little, forehead tipping forward to rest against Roger’s.

“Good. I want to show you something after breakfast.”

John left it at that. He left Roger to be curious – and Roger was actually on the verge of pressing it when Freddie came clattering by their bedroom door, declaring they needed to ‘stop humping eachother and get back to the music’.

By the time they were sat at the breakfast table – listening to Freddie’s slightly muddled idea for his latest song – Roger’s thoughts had slipped away from John’s invitation entirely.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I know it’s not really the style of music you like listening to usually.”

Those were the first words out of John’s mouth when the demo track – a very simplified version of the composition he had in mind, with just Freddie’s vocals and the electric piano – came to an end. It was the predominant thought running through his mind, though, that when writing a song about Roger, he should have perhaps made more of an attempt to make it appeal to Roger in style.

He dared a glance over at Roger – because he hadn’t heard a peep from the other man since the track started playing, and usually Roger was pretty quick to jump in with his opinions of new songs.

Roger just looked surprised, more than anything. Blinking down at the console, lips parted just slightly.

“What do you think of it?” John asked softly, and the worry that Roger hated it was starting to seep in. Perhaps Roger would take it the wrong way, and think that this was something ingenuine, just John pandering to the rather obvious insecurity that Roger had been carrying around since John and Brian had mated. While the song _was_ in some ways a response to that, there was nothing ingenuine about it. John meant every word; the lyrics had seemed to flow out of him without any effort at all because they were so true to his own feelings.

“Is it… about me?” Roger asked after a few long moments. John was surprised he even had to ask. Of course, Roger was his best friend. Of course, it was Roger who John had been able to lean on his whole adult life.

He had to make sure Roger knew as much.

“Of course it is, why else would I be showing it to you first?” John replied quickly. Well, admittedly Freddie had been the first to hear it, but that was just a matter of necessity – John could hardly have sung the track himself. Roger had gone quiet again. “Do you like it?” John pressed a little.

Roger scoffed, like it was a stupid question.

“How could I not like it?” he said, and finally – with the tension disappearing slowly from Roger’s shoulders – John felt the atmosphere in the studio start to relax a little, “Miles better than the last one you wrote about me. No, I really like it. It’s – uh – do you really mean all of that?”

“All of it, yes, absolutely,” John replied with the utmost sincerity, and Roger’s expression broke into a grin – sunny, and brighter than any smile John could recall seeing from him since his last heat.

“Well, let’s listen again then, I need to memorise all this so I can hang it over your head next time I piss you off,” Roger shot back, and John just laughed as he was pulled closer with an arm hooked around his waist – practically toppling into Roger’s lap as he scrambled to reset the track and play it again.

Roger kissed him, then, to the tune of the boppy little song John had written about their relationship. He didn’t stop when the track faded out into silence, either.

Just under an hour later, the two of them emerged from the studio, rumpled and pleased, John with one arm still snug around Roger’s shoulders.

John was just happy knowing that Roger understood – really, truly understood – just how loved he was.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John pulled off of Brian’s cock, panting harshly against the older man’s hip and shuddering as Roger’s tongue marked a wet stripe from the achingly sensitive spot just under his balls up to where John was already slick and open - because they’d been going for nearly twenty minutes already. Roger was just being a tease, and that had made it impossibly difficult to focus on giving Brian a decent blowjob.

Not that Brian seemed to mind, particularly. He was stroking through John’s hair – with long fingers that John was rather intimately familiar with – and gazing down at him fondly, and John couldn’t resist leaning in to mouth wetly at Brian’s cock again.

Brian’s fingers skimmed down to rub gently over the mating bite on John’s neck, just as Roger’s tongue pressed firmly into him, and John could have vibrated out of his skin for how good it felt. After so many years together, Roger had an intimate knowledge of exactly what John liked in bed, and he took full advantage of it.

As Roger’s tongue continued to lave over his hole, John couldn’t help but moan, the sound turning thin and ragged when Roger decided abuptly to pull back when things were starting to get really good. John shot him his best attempt at a glare, and Roger just smirked.

“It’s just a warm up,” Roger said, voice low and husky, and John still thought he was a tease.

A few moments later, though, he found it in his heart to forgive Roger when three lovely, familiar fingers were pressed into him, curling almost immediately to rub against that spot that made John’s toes curl, and his cock drip over the sheets. He nuzzled against Brian’s hip again, and panted softly, trying not to get too carried away with the sensation of it all – a near impossible task when Roger’s fingers twisted wickedly inside of him, the relative quiet of the room taken over with filthy, slick sounds and barely-stifled whimpers from John.

“John?” The voice caught John’s attention just as he was starting to zone out a little, and he twisted to gaze blearily up at Brian, who smiled down at him. “Why don’t you come and sit up a bit?”

He said it so casually, like he had nothing planned and it was just an idea that had popped into his head, but that clearly wasn’t the case. The second John had shuffled up to sit straddling Brian’s lap – Roger’s fingers hastily pressing back into him once he was repositioned – Brian’s hand slipped down to palm firmly over John’s flushed cock, easily drawing out a surprised whine.

“D’you think we need to use lube, Rog?” Brian asked over John’s shoulder, as John was far too caught up in the twin sensations of a hand on his dick and fingers slowly spreading him open to participate in the conversation.

“Maybe not, at this rate,” Roger replied, crooking his fingers again and sending a spark of pleasure through John that had him keening, and tipping forward to bury his face against Brian’s shoulder, greedily inhaling the comforting scent of his mate. “See for yourself,” Roger was saying, and John barely had a second to parse what _that_ meant before the warmth of Brian’s hand moved away from his erection and drifted further down.

John shuddered as he felt the tips of Brian’s fingers rubbing gently over where he was already stretched around Roger’s fingers, and he knew it was coming, but it still felt unspeakably good when Brian pressed a finger into him alongside Roger’s.

“Say if it’s too much,” Roger murmured, his breath warm against the back of John’s neck, and he was worrying for no reason. It was so, so far from being too much. If anything, it wasn’t enough. John knew what was coming and – with the logical part of his brain mostly stifled by arousal – he was rather eager to get to that _now._

John rocked his hips down against the twin intrusions, Roger pumping his fingers at a pace that was just different enough to Brian’s that John couldn’t forget for a second that they were _both_ stretching him open. Couldn’t ignore that what he was feeling was Brian _and_ Roger – just fingers for now, but eventually it would be more.

It made John desperately impatient to get to the main act.

He tried to communicate as much by rolling his hips down a little harder, but the other two – it seemed mainly Brian, actually – were rather insistent on taking things slow and steady.

By the time Brian had three fingers pressed into him to match Roger’s three, John could barely think for how good it felt – almost as intense as being knotted, though unlike when Brian knotted him, John was desperately trying to stave off the orgasm that he could feel building.

Apparently, he was alone in that goal. A hand closed around John’s cock, stoking the flames of his already burning arousal, and John could tell just from the pace of it – fast and purposeful – that it was Roger’s hand.

“I can’t,” he panted, trying to communicate but the inside of his head was like cotton and it felt so wonderful that John wasn’t even sure why he’d wanted to hold back in the first place. Still, he persevered, words slipping out with very little thought behind them. “Roger, please, I can’t-“

“It’s okay,” Roger said softly, and barely a second later John’s orgasm coarsed through him like a molten wave. He could have cried at how good it felt; his eyes definitely weren’t entirely dry as he moaned into the welcoming crook of Brian’s neck, and rocked his hips – bearing down like he was taking Brian’s knot.

Things went hazy then, like they usually did. John’s senses were overwhelmed with the scent of his mate, and the less powerful – but still there, always there – scent of Roger. Everything else melded into a pleasant blur, his body singing with slowly fading pleasure – distantly aware that some new pleasure was taking its place, though John couldn’t quite parse where that was coming from for the time being.

“Maybe a bit, just to be safe.”

John heard the voice in the hazy edges of his awareness. Roger’s voice – he’d recognise it anywhere. Equally distantly, he heard to sound of a cap being popped open, but he wasn’t awfully concerned with that. Far more preoccupying was the undeniable sensation of being filled, by more than just fingers this time.

With a soft groan, John’s focused his gaze. Sometime in the haze, he’d obviously been shifted onto Roger’s lap, because blonde hair was now tickling his nose and it was most certainly Roger’s cock inside of him – the beta’s hips rocking just slightly, the sensation of it just on the verge of overstimulating.

Bleary as he was, John couldn’t help but lift his head to press his lips soundly to Roger’s – the kiss lazy and tender as he slung an arm over Roger’s shoulder. Despite all of boisterousness, Roger could be so gentle in bed, and now was no exception. His hand just lightly cupped John’s cheek, and the kiss seemed to last forever. At least, it lasted long enough for John’s cock to start filling out again, the tip of it sliding over Roger’s stomach.

“Still up for this?”

Roger’s voice came soft and gentle a few moments after they stopped kissing, and John was quick to nod. He was. He could feel Brian pressing closer behind him now. It wasn’t long before fingers – slightly cold from the lube coating them, which was unfamiliar to John, who didn’t usually need it – rubbing firmly at the rim of John’s entrance, up against where Roger’s cock was already stretching him open.

That sensation alone made him shiver against Roger, half in anticipation for what he knew was coming. They’d talked it through, of course, but no amount of talking could determine whether John would actually enjoy the feeling, when it came down to it.

He was pretty sure he would, if the frankly _glorious_ sensation of Brian’s finger pressing in alongside Roger’s cock was anything to go by. It made Roger hiss, but John could only moan helplessly, clinging to Roger’s shoulders because he would have felt completely adrift otherwise.

Brian – as per usual – took his time. He didn’t bother moving his fingers once they were pressed in, letting the rolling thrusts of Roger’s hips do most of the work ‘til John was dizzy with need. Need for _more._ Need for his mate, and need to be filled, and taken, and _wrecked._ Brian ostensibly had the same goal in mind, but seemed frustratingly content with taking his sweet time getting there.

“Please,” John gasped out, and he half-wished he could see Brian, but it was admittedly nice to be pressed up against Roger instead. Besides, Brian’s scent was thick in the air, blanketing him as he whined again, “Please, Brian.”

“You sure?” Brian asked, and his voice was steady and his hand was solid and firm on John’s hip. It sent butterflies racing from John’s sternum down to his belly.

He nodded.

It didn’t happen as immediately as John would have liked, mostly because the angle was awkward. He had to lift himself almost all the way off of Roger’s cock, and wait for Brian to shuffle closer and line up – Roger moaning heatedly just from having Brian’s cock sliding up against his own.

When John did finally sink down onto both of them, he had to cling to Roger’s shoulders because he was a trembling mess after only the first inch or so. Every time he shifted his hips, the sensation – the stretch – was just on the verge of being too much. John’s spine felt like it was molten as he pressed down a little further, thighs quivering from the strain of it, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop – not with Brian’s teeth at his neck and Roger’s hand grasping his hip, goading him on wordlessly.

There were tears pricking at the corners of John’s eyes by the time he was fully seated, the sensation not painful, but certainly overwhelming. Any plan he’d had of riding his partners was out of the window, because his legs felt like jelly and John really couldn’t do much more than keen against Roger’s neck and squeeze his shoulder and try not to just orgasm there and then. It was good, then, that Brian evidently had more energy left in him, grinding his hips up firmly, and building up to a steady rhythm of deep, languid thrusts.

John felt so breathless from the feeling of it that he was barely being vocal at all, just panting into the warm crook of Roger’s shoulder – occasionally having a whimper punched out of him by a particularly sharp thrust. Roger was loud enough for the two of them though, moans climbing up in pitch until he muffled them by capturing John’s lips with his own – the kiss clumsy, more teeth than tongue, and still somehow ridiculously good.

Good as it all felt, it didn’t last very long.

After a few more purposeful, deep thrusts, Brian’s hips stilled, his lips seeking John’s neck to nip and suck at as his knot began to swell, caught inside of John. It was a feeling John was so used to, he almost forgot Roger wasn’t.

Sure enough…

“Fuck!” Roger panted out the expletive, forehead tipping forward against John’s, “Oh _fuck,_ fuck, is that-“ He cut himself off with a stuttering moan, and John was distracted from Roger by the burgeoning wave of his own orgasm crashing over him.

It was less frantic than the first, but far more intense. John just felt warm all over – inside and out – and couldn’t seem to stop twitching, struck by some new pleasure each time he thought it had ended.

When he finally came to, feeling a bone-deep ache that was surpassed only by an even more deep-seated satisfaction, John was still in the same position, slumped against Roger while Roger and Brian seemed to be kissing languidly over his shoulder. For a few long moments, John just basked in the afterglow of his orgasm – the feeling of Brian and Roger still inside of him, though Brian’s knot had gone down, and the mixed scent of the three of them thick in the air. Like John was mated to them both, which – in spirit – he was.

John smiled a little at that thought, pressing a few gentle kisses to Roger’s neck. It only took a few moments, then, for Roger to turn his attention back to John.

“You back with us, then?” he asked, moving his hand to cup the back of John’s neck.

“Mm, yes,” John mumbled, unable to help the drowsy slur of his voice.

“And you’re feeling okay? Not too sore?” That was Brian, fastidious as always, his hand slipping down to stroke soothingly over John’s thigh, “You were out for a bit longer than usual.”

“Tiny bit sore,” John replied, “Not very. I’m fine, Bri.”

Brian would still probably check in with John about twenty times in the morning, and John was okay with that. It was just how Brian was; he thought it was sweet.

“I’m exhausted,” Roger announced, “Brian, you get a towel, ‘cause it’s your fault I won’t be able to walk straight now.”

Brian just scoffed, cheeks flushing a little as he carefully slid out of John – the half-emptiness not entirely pleasant – and went to grab a towel.

“It was like having my cock in a vice,” Roger muttered, “It was good and all but _Jesus.”_

That made John laugh. He was still laughing softly when Brian returned, and the three of them made slow, lazy work of wiping eachother down just enough that they wouldn’t feel too sticky in the morning before they went and had a proper shower.

And when the three of them managed to find their way under the duvet, curling up together in a tangle of limbs and languid, sleepy kisses, John couldn’t stifle the happiness swelling in his chest, warm and sunny. He didn’t have to stifle it, as he murmured a soft – and quickly reciprocated – ‘I love you’ to Brian and Roger, before shifting into a more comfortable position, dropping his head down against Brian’s chest, and starting to doze off to sleep.

Whatever happened, John knew, they would always come back to this: the three of them settled in a warm embrace against the backdrop of a sometimes-frightening world.

John couldn’t imagine a better place to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it!
> 
> As I said, I should be continuing to write one shots in this 'verse, so it's not done just yet! Please subscribe to the series this fic is part of in order to keep getting updates on that.
> 
> That being said, this is still a pretty big milestone, and the end of the longest fic I've ever written, so let me just get all corny here and say thank you to everybody who's read this all the way through, thank you to those who left kudos, to those who commented, bookmarked and subscribed. You all have contributed massively to my motivation in writing this!!
> 
> I posted a lil teaser oneshot today for another 'verse I'm gonna be working on that involves the same pairing (trio?) as this, so check that out if you need some more reading material ;)
> 
> Aaaand as always, comments and kudos are appreciated!


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